The Lies that Bind
by Zephros
Summary: In the midst of his sixth year, Harry rescues Daphne Greengrass from an unpleasant fate. While innocent affection grows, a shadow has been cast into the Chosen One's life that might herald him down a darker path. A path his own actions may yet create.
1. Chapter 1: The Setup

**The Lies that Bind**

** Chapter 1: The Set Up**

He could tell from their screams how the victims felt. A high pitched scream, more akin to a wail, was one of disbelief, with undercurrent of terror fueling it. A scream, low and primal, revealed the persons' realization of their fate laid bare to them; a fate to die in pain. A long scream held for seconds spoke of nothing but all consuming pain. He glanced to that left and was not surprised to see Bellatrix administering that brand of agony.

He walked down the cobblestone street and glanced ahead, where the lane ended, looking past the house to the muggle suburban neighborhood beyond. How ordinary the rows of houses seemed, when compared to the grandiose designs of his lesser brethren. The small villa, the subject of this terror strike, was nestled in a park just behind the ever-expanding muggle town. He could not be bothered to remember what the Carrows called it; they had planned the raid from their hideaway not too far from here.

The house before him lay at the end of the street was large and imposing with images of painted golden elephants running on the walls. Their silent trumpets rising to the air every so oft. A few were stilled, casualties of the residences defending themselves, blacked marks marring the gray paint. The creatures also spoke of the family's origin: the Indian subcontinent. They were not the targets of the raid, just collateral damage caught up in his war. He smiled. Victims had a way of moving people in fear more than single targets. Nothing stoked hysteria like massacres.

This was his first ambitious strike of this nature against wizards; he had only targeted individuals who stood in his before. The larger strikes had been against muggles, leaving the Wizarding World gnawing at night on their pillows, wondering when he would strike at them. Now he was fulfilling their nightmares, fueling their imaginations. This would put even more pressure on Scrimgoer and his pathetic attempts to quell the public. Voldemort shook his head. The man was a fool more concerned with keeping the status quo than making the necessary sacrifices to fight him. An easy opponent, one he could not have asked more from.

A blast of light from within the house heralded a black-robed man flying from the second story window. His bone white mask fell away as the figure landed on the ground with a sickening crunch. He dropped his wand and lay moaning, his motions strained. Voldemort calmly looked up to see a man with tan skin and dark hair appear in the frame of the shattered window. The face disappeared a second later, fright filling the dark eyes.

Voldemort pulled out his wand and advanced on his follower.

"Please…" rasped the man as his master's form shadowed him.

Voldemort's heel pressed on the man's head, and the death eater cringed. Voldemort spun his wand and a blue light snaked out to fall over the prone man. A crack was heard and the Death Eater straightened. The pain left his eyes and Voldemort removed his boot. "Don't fail me again."

With that he left the man and approached the house. It would not due his reputation any good if someone survived the massacre. Hope was a disease that needed to be treated one life at a time.

As the door opened, bidding him welcome, the secondary effect of his spell swept over the fallen follower. Like a wave, it started from his spine. Dozens of snaps echoed through his body, ending with three coming from his skull. The man writhed on the lawn, unable to cope with every bone being broken in his body. His movements only intensified the pain, and he realized this too late. A scream ripped from his throat, rising into the air, matching the victims of the surrounding area.

With that dealt with, he entered the house.

He swung his wand in the shape of a rune, the air sizzling as the magic coalesced. In an instant he knew where his target lay hidden. He dispersed the magic and made his way to the top floor, finding his target huddled behind a closet door. Voldemort banished the door and blocked a spell fired by the wizard within; the Indian man had quick reflexes. Voldemort flicked his wand, a black rope, fashioned with a hook at the end, leapt from his wand's tip. The man shrieked and cast another spell; it had no effect on the metal hook. The man watched, dazed, as it pierced the flesh of his leg, a fountain of blood spilled outward.

Rational thought left the man's mind and he floundered with his wand, trying to focus his magic. Voldemort disarmed him. Voldemort flicked his wrist and the rope, still attached to the tip of his wand, pulled tight, yanking the man from the closet. He landed across the hall in a heap. The Dark Lord flicked his wrist again, sending the man flying through a wall. Voldemort walked into the room, admiring the gentleman's stamina. He was still not dazed. A trip through the floor, Voldemort nimbly jumping down to join him, fixed that.

The man lay by the back door, his head rising slowly, pain dulled his dark eyes. Thrice more Voldemort sent the man through various walls, until finally his battered body refused to move. The Dark Lord unhooked the leg and banished the metal piece. He directed the rope into a noose and hung the body from the ceiling. With a tiny wave of his wand, he set it ablaze. As he turned to leave, the raging fire shadowed his face in darkness.

Voldemort emerged from the house to find his Death Eaters looking uncomfortably at their fellow, whose movements had finally forced him to weep between gasps of pain. All save for Bellatrix, who toyed with her wand. She was no doubt pondering if she could add to his suffering. His emergence gathered their attention. He knocked the failure out and addressed those assembled. "Excellent work, save for one failing." He glanced down. "I may allow him the use of his body again." Maybe.

He glanced to the sky and pointed his wand, leaving his infamous mark emblazoned across the starry sky.

His desires here sated, he summoned a stone from the yard and made it into a portkey. As one the Death Eaters stepped forward to touch it. Voldemort puppetted the failure to raise his shattered hand. Before activating it and leaving, Voldemort wished one of his schemes to capture the Boy-who-lived could go as smoothly. Then they were sucked away, leaving the area silent, save for the moans of the few survivors.

**

* * *

**

Harry Potter was not in the best of moods as he walked the corridors of Hogwarts. The dream he had that morning of Voldemort's recent raid had left him irritable and with little sleep. It sickened him what his nemesis was capable of, and he dared hope one day their connection would be broken. He had gone to the Headmaster immediately and Dumbledore and contacted the Ministry.

It galled Harry that Dumbledore once spoke of choices deciding a person's path in life, how only their choices in life had separated Harry and Voldemort. Harry liked to believe that no matter what choices he made, he would never be anything like Voldemort.

As Harry walked a potion's book lay gripped in his hand, modified by the half-blood prince. Its ratty exterior was a testament to its age. It was the same book Hermione had again been needling him about, dropping not-so-subtle hints about using it as a study guide. _This book has helped more than she ever did!_

Right after thinking that, he regretted it; he owed his friend more than that. If not for her he would be dead several times over by now. _Okay, that's taking it a little too far._ _My grades would be a lot worse._ He amended, but his conscious was not satisfied. He sighed and accepted the fact his friend had helped him out more than the book. Yet, her snippy tone of voice and casual words still stoked his anger. He would normally vent to his best mate Ron, but for the past few weeks his lips had been glued to Lavender's.

"Malfoy doesn't like you snooping around, Greengrass."

Harry stopped in mid-stride at hearing his rival's name. He pulled his invisibility cloak from his bag and donned it; curiosity had gotten the better of him. With careful movements, he listened in on the conversation as he sought its source.

"I don't care what that fool thinks." Came a girl's voice, aristocratic in execution.

There was a heavy sigh. "He knows that. It's why I'm here."

Harry peaked into a room and found a strange sight greeting him. Standing within was Blaise Zabini, a tall, dark boy, pointing a wand at Daphne Greengrass. Long raven locks crowned her head, above deep blue eyes and a pale complexion. Harry looked for her wand and found it on the ground by Blaise's feet. What were two Slytherins doing at odds with one another?

"What are you going to do?" She sneered at him. "Cast a few jinxes on me? Make my hair fall out?"

Blaise shook his head. "This isn't a school-yard fight, Daphne. This is Death Eater business."

"What? Not you?" Daphne's complexion paled.

He scoffed. "I would never take the mark if I could help, but I am no one's fool."

Harry's heart raced at the confirmation regarding Malfoy.

"I don't want to do this, but there's too much at stake. One loose-end is all it would take." Blaise raised his wand and quickly glanced to the door and frowned. She followed his vision. Harry panicked, fearing he had made a sound.

"You're not going to cast the Imperious on me, are you?" She quailed.

Righteous anger suffused through Harry.

Zabini glanced back towards her. "Do you have a better solution? One where you'll keep his secret?"

She nodded her head. "I promise stay I'll quiet!" She cried, her voice carrying into the hallway, her tone nearing panic

"Sorry, Daphne, can't take that chance." Zabini seemed to slowly maneuver his wand in preparation while Daphne looked away. "_Im—"_

Harry could not stand there and let it happen. Not wasting a moment, he threw off the cloak and pulled his wand free. "_Expelliarmus!"_

Zabini had no time to respond as the red light struck him, blowing him off his feet and sending his wand flying from his grip. Harry nimbly caught it.

"Potter!" Daphne cried in shock.

Feeling quite proud, considering the ease with which he'd disarmed his opponent, Harry smiled at her. "Yes?"

It took a moment for Daphne to compose herself, relief flooding her face. "Oh, thank-you," she said breathlessly, her gratitude seeming genuine.

The look made him nervous, and he glanced away, gazing at Zabini. The black boy was finding his feet and dusting off his robes. He took a deep breath and looked to Harry, perfectly composed. "My wand?" he asked, offering an empty hand.

Harry looked at him askance. "Why would I do that?"

"You bested me. It's pretty clear I wouldn't stand a chance against you in a duel. So there's no harm in giving back my wand." He noted Harry's hesitation. "What do you have to lose after beating me so easily?"

"I'm not stupid, you know. You could double-cross me."

Zabini smiled. "We both know you're going to give it back to me anyway. It's the noble thing to do and all."

"How about we take this to Professor Dumbledore and see what he has to say?" Harry replied.

Zabini's eyes widened and fear crept into them as he glanced to Daphne. She swiftly stepped between them. "No. Please, just give him back his wand."

Harry balked. "He tried to cast an unforgivable on you!"

"You don't understand how my house works." She looked to him with large blue eyes, an unspoken plea dwelling within them.

He almost caved. "He'll try again." He reasoned. He glanced at Zabini and saw fear in those dark eyes, behind the Slytherin's calm composure. _He's afraid of me. _The thought filled him with unease. "Will you try again?"

Zabini shook his head. "I'll leave her alone."

Harry took a step forward. "How can I believe you?"

Zabini gave him a level look. "You can't, but she is right. You don't know how our house works."

"Then tell me."

"Potter, please…" Daphne began, her eyes again filled with an unspoken plea.

Harry noticed she used his name with some familiarity but pushed the thought aside. He sighed and tossed the wand back, trusting to their ways, ignorant to them as he was. _Strange I've never heard about this before now._ "Don't do anything, or I'll go to Dumbledore."

Zabini caught the wand and hastily left the room, avoiding looking Harry's way. Once gone, Harry turned to the girl. "Why didn't you want to go to Dumbledore? He was going to cast an unforgivable on you."

She eyed to the floor, looking suddenly fragile. "It wouldn't matter. Someone else would just do it. I didn't know what I was getting into…"

Harry gave her a sympathetic look. "Look, we'll just go to Dumbledore, and he can take care of everything."

"Potter," she began slowly, "it doesn't matter because he didn't cast it, and I don't want to make myself into a target by going to the Headmaster."

He could see her reasoning. Involving Dumbledore would rile the Death Eaters in her house, since he was now positive they existed. "Okay, I won't take this to him. But, what good will it do, if they'll just get you later?"

Her face turned warm as she beamed at him. "Because Blaise will tell them who saved me. _You._ The Chosen-One. They're afraid of you, and if they think you'll help me they'll leave me alone."

He really hated the chosen-one business, but knowing they feared him made him feel oddly good. He knew in theory having people fear you was unethical, but they were Death Eaters.

"Plus, I'll tell Malfoy myself I'll quit snooping around." She waited for his response on bated breath.

Harry perked-up at that. "What exactly have you found out? Is he a Death Eater?"

Daphne looked around nervously, biting her lip before speaking. "Yes and he's on some mission for the Dark Lord, but I don't know what it is. I don't think I want to know now."

Harry crowed victoriously in his mind. _Wait till I tell Hermione and Ron this…oh yeah._ The thought sobered him somewhat, reminding him why he had been by himself in the first place. "Right, so…" He suddenly realized he had saved a complete stranger, whom he had said no more than a dozen words to in the course of his schooling.

She sensed his awkwardness. "Thanks again." She tucked a stray hair behind her ear and smiled.

He returned it and took a few steps back. "No problem. I'd better be going." He turned and left, but her voice gave him pause. He turned.

"Wait! I want to give my hero a proper thank-you."

"Huh?"

She steeled herself, brought her hands to his face, and brazenly kissed him.

For an eternity Harry Potter was experiencing something that had him feeling quite happy with the world. Without waiting he responded to her forward gesture. His body stiffened as he felt her tongue briefly part his lips. The gesture sent sparks racing down his spine.

To his supreme disappointment she broke away, her breathing shallow and her face flushed. She gave him a shy smile. "Thanks." With that, she collected her wand and bid a hasty retreat.

All Harry could do to respond was touch his lips and mutter, "Wow."

* * *

"Why didn't you go to the Headmaster, Harry?" Hermione insisted as they walked from the Transfiguration classroom. "That sort of thing should be reported immediately!" In her hands she clutched her mail from that morning. They were correspondences she had set-up earlier in the year, asking various professionals about their jobs. Among the letters was the latest Daily Prophet exclaiming Voldemort's recent attack on the Wizarding World. The news therein had been grim. Harry had not taken the news well when he had heard about it that morning; he had spent most of breakfast brooding.

Harry played with the hem of his robes, trying not to regret telling her. She was making more a deal of it than necessary. "She asked me not to…and it's not like he actually cast it on her. I stopped him before he did."

"And that's when she kissed you?" She arched a brow his way.

"No, she didn't do it in front of Blaise. He left, then she kissed me," he said correcting her.

"What about—" She quickly cut off the statement, catching herself.

"What about what?"

"Nothing." She waved her hand dismissing the topic.

He shrugged. "Okay, but you still have to admit that I'm right." He looked around and lowered his voice. "Malfoy did take the mark _and_ he's plotting something for Voldemort." He was glad to see her not flinch at the name.

She frowned but conceded him that point. "You're right, and that _is_ something you have to bring up with Professor Dumbledore." Her brown eyes gave him a penetrating stare.

He nodded. "I will after our next class, I just won't mention Daphne or Blaise."

She went to speak, opening her mouth, but sighed and let the matter rest.

It was in the late afternoon that Harry finally got a chance to seek out the Headmaster. He found him conveniently enough in his office going over a long parchment. Upon seeing Harry enter his frown turned into a smile, and he put the paper down. After folding his hands he spoke. "Have you finally obtained Slughorn's memory, Harry?" His tone was hopeful.

Harry guiltily looked to the floor. "Not yet, professor. I'm still working on it."

Dumbledore's face fell slightly. "I cannot stress to you how important retrieving that memory is to defeating Voldemort. It is the solitary key I need to unlock his secrets."

"I know, professor, I know." Harry said lamely.

"If that was not the reason you came to see me, then what was?" Dumbledore arched one bushy eyebrow, his tone becoming pleasant again.

Seeing the awkward mention of the Slughorn's memory put behind them, he jumped to tell about his newly acquired information. "I've just learned that Draco took the Dark Mark and is on a mission for Voldemort." He blurted out.

Dumbledore gave no sign of surprise, causing Harry to deflate. "This is something that is not new to me, Harry. In fact, I learned of this just before the school year began."

"You're okay with having a Death Eater in Hogwarts?" Harry asked, appalled.

Dumbledore's expression became indulgent. "Harry, there are many shades of gray in this world and becoming something does not mean you become darker. Draco is still young and impressionable; his path is not yet set in stone."

"I think I can see that."

"I've already talked to Professor Snape about it and trust his judgment."

"But Snape's trying to help him." Harry declared, rehashing this old argument, recalling Slughorn's Party.

Dumbledore's expression darkened. "We've tread this road before and my stance has not changed." He mellowed his tone. "I suggest you turn your efforts more towards Slughorn and let me worry about Draco. I can assure you everything is in hand."

Harry bit his tongue.

Dumbledore sensed his resistance. "Don't you trust me, Harry?" His voice was small.

Harry sighed and looked away, unable to meet Dumbledore's eyes. "Yes sir, I trust you."

The Headmaster smiled, genuinely relieved. "Thank-you. Was there anything else?"

"No sir. I'll…I'll work more on getting that memory. I promise." Harry turned to leave, feeling guilty gnaw upon his stomach.

It was later that evening he divulged what had happened in the Headmaster's office to Hermione. The bushy-haired witch agreed with the Headmaster's assessment completely. "You shouldn't be obsessing over him. That memory is a lot more important." Her brow knit in thought. "It is strange though, he would let Draco attend, knowing he took the Dark Mark."

Currently they were seated on a cushy sofa in the Gryffindor common room, their books open on their laps. "That's what I thought. " I really should have trusted Dumbledore from the start. It's just—"

"You have a sore spot for the ferret?" She finished for him smiling.

He chuckled. "Yeah."

It was then Dean Thomas and Ginny Weasley entered the common room from the Fat Lady's portrait. Harry missed the scrutiny Hermione gave him as he watched the couple cross the room holding hands. With her free hand she waved to a group of her friends and made her way over. Harry again felt the monster in his chest rear-up, but alongside it he felt sparks shooting down his spine as he imagined Ginny kissing him the way Daphne had.

Hiding a smile behind her hand, Hermione spoke. "Do you need something to drink?"

Her words brought him back down to earth, making him aware of the blush residing in his cheeks. He laughed awkwardly and ran a hand through his hair. "No, I'll be alright."

Hermione nodded to herself and spoke idly. "You know, if she and Dean ever break-up some other boy is going to ask her out. Wouldn't that be a shame?"

Harry could his hear heart hammering in his ears. _What about Ron?_ He looked to find his best mate again entwined with Lavendar. _Fuck Ron._ He felt guilty at that thought, but he realized just how bitter he had become with Ron spending most of his time with his girlfriend. Were they no longer close because he was fooling around with a broad?

"Well?" Hermione prompted.

Still he stalled, undecided. "What makes you think I want to ask her out?"

"Because you look like a kicked puppy every time you see her with Dean."

Harry winced. "Really?"

She nodded sadly. "It's really cute, actually."

He gave her faux scowl before laughing. "Maybe I will." Doubt seized him, unfamiliar as it was to him. "You think she'll say yes?"

Hermione bit her lip, unwilling to give away Ginny's admission the summer before. "I don't have all the answers, Harry. You'll just have to ask her and see." She gave him an encouraging smile.

He nodded, stealing another look Ginny's way. He was surprised when they locked gazes and she looked away embarrassed. He smiled. _Yeah, I think I will_.

Later that night, as he lay awake in bed, he practiced his weekly routine with thoughts of a red-haired girl frolicking through his mind, feelings of a tongue playing across his lips at the forefront of the fantasy.

* * *

The following week found Harry Potter in the library researching memories and magic. He went through several volumes without any luck and wished Hermione were with him to help, but again she had been snippy with his potion's book for it had been the first place he had checked. She had snapped at him. "The book's not going to answer all your problems, Harry."

A few more words had been exchanged with her parting in a huff and him leaving annoyed. That afternoon he had pushed his fellow Quidditch players harder than necessary, and the results had not been that positive. The only bright point was trading a few words of friendship with Ron, who seemed to be finally drifting away from Lavender and closer to him. This also brought Harry closer to the ongoing conflict between his best friends.

He felt someone's presence next to him. He glanced up to find a nervous Daphne looking down at him. Remembering how their last encounter went, he did not quite know what to say. "Er…yes?"

She fiddled with her robes before quickly looking to a table behind her. Harry followed her gaze and recognized several seventh year Slytherins sitting there. They seemed to be ignoring him and Daphne. "Can I…can I sit with you, please?" Those pleading orbs were again beset upon him.

He caved. "Sure."

Relieved, she took a seat and quickly brought out a quill and parchment, setting beside them a transfiguration book.

Several of the Slytherins finally looked up from their work and gave the pair questioning looks. Seeing where this might be going Harry played his part and gave them a challenging stare. Hastily they looked away.

Daphne saw the exchange and slowly extended her hand to cover his. "Thank-you." Her lips were carefully parted, inviting Harry to lean forward.

He eyed those lips and his mind remembered their kiss. He pulled his hand away from hers, not too quickly as to give her the wrong idea, though. "No problem." Rather than dwell on her lips he asked: "Have they been giving you trouble?"

She gave him a grateful smile. "No, but a few thought we weren't friends and doubted the story."

_Friends?_ He cleared his throat. "We're not exactly friends, you know."

She flushed a pretty shade of crimson. "I know that, but anything less would not have been enough. It would have been suspicious."

He saw a logical hole in her ploy. "And them suddenly seeing us hanging out isn't?"

"I told them I had kept it discreet because of house tensions. It convinced most of them—"

"—but not all of them." Harry finished with a sigh. "Okay, so you hang around me a few times and that will convince the rest?"

She pouted. "Am I so bad to be around?" Again her lips were parted, drawing his attention.

Harry floundered. "N-no." He collected himself. "I really don't know you that well so I can't even say."

"Then what's the harm in finding out? We can take it slow if you want? Just hang out do homework together."

He quickly realized there was no harm and her continued association with him would help give her some protection. "I guess that could work." He amended pleasantly. "Though, I think it would still be better to just go to Dumbledore."

Her face became blank. "Please, just try it this way for now."

He opened his mouth to argue further.

She quickly spoke over him. "If it gets worse I promise to come to you and then go to the Headmaster, alright?"

Mollified, he nodded. From there the conversation trailed as she concentrated on her work and he on his research. When queried about it he told her it was for a special project for Slughorn. He was nowhere near trusting her with any of his secrets. She accepted that and they continued on in relative peace.

* * *

In the following days Harry's research was becoming fruitless and in desperation he sought out Hermione's help. She caved to his pleas and said she would meet him in the library after her study session with a few Ravenclaws. What she found upon entering was an odd sight. There in a corner of the library, tucked away, with books out around both were Harry and Daphne laughing. She heard no sounds thus assumed a silencing spell had been cast around their table.

She fumed as she marched over. _How irresponsible! He should be doing research not flirting._ With narrowed eyes she approached their table, entering the space of the spell and hearing their laughter. It took a moment for her presence to become known, but she diligently waited, her arms crossed.

Harry turned his head, smiling. "Oh, hey Hermione. Thanks for coming." His smile faltered at her withering expression. "What?"

"Shouldn't you be—I don't know—studying?"

He became defensive. "I am."

She held up her hand and gestured to Daphne. "You were."

He balked. "No, I am. She just joined me a couple of minutes ago. Was it wrong for us to start talking? Am I so pressed for time that I can't enjoy talking with someone?"

His reasoning was sound, but she would not be diverted. "Will Voldemort wait?"

Daphne flinched at the name. That drew Harry and Hermione's attention and Hermione cursed inwardly. _I should have watched my tongue._

Harry glared at his closest friend but spoke to Daphne. "I think you should leave now. What we're discussing isn't safe for you to know."

With shaking hands Daphne gathered her things and bid them good-bye.

Harry spoke. "You shouldn't have talked about it like that." He accused.

She huffed, realizing then her reaction had been unjustified, but there was something about Daphne's sudden entrance into her friend's life that made her wary. "And just what was she doing here? Were you _saving_ her from another unforgivable?"

Harry clinched his hands. "What does it matter? Can't I have friends in Slytherin?"

Hermione plowed onward. "How long have you two been talking?"

"She's only been coming around for the past few days."

Hermione grew suspicious. "Has she taken an interest in your studies?"

"No and she didn't care either until you blurted it out."

Hermione looked away. "What about Ginny?" She asked as a last resort, wanting him to see beyond Daphne's flirtations, remind him of another young woman close to him.

Harry had a sense of déjà vu as Hermione said that. She had said something similar, tone and all, after he had saved Daphne; save she had not mentioned Ginny's name. Suddenly, he was suspicious and he played through his and Hermione's conversation from last week again. With shrewd eyes he regarded his friend. "What about Ginny? She's with Dean so it doesn't matter to her who I spend my time with."

Hermione opted to speak, but slowly closed her mouth. "It doesn't matter," she said instead. "I'm sorry I got mad." _Regardless, there is something going on with her. And now she knows we're doing something involving Voldemort._ Hermione made a note to do some research on the Greengrass family.

Harry frowned, but accepted the apology grudgingly. "Listen, let's just put it behind us and figure this out, okay?"

Finally, letting go of his anger he fumbled through his notes and showed them to Hermione. "This is all I could figure out on my own. To alter the memory means to change it for good, but Dumbledore thinks the real one's intact."

Following the logic Hermione finished the thought. "Which means he didn't actually change it, he only invented one and placed it over the original. Or maybe he copied it and altered the other?"

Harry nodded. "Right. So I think he has it in a jar somewhere in his office so he wouldn't remember it."

Hermione took a seat and shook her head. "No. Memories don't work like that. The silvery substance that comes out is only a copy. You can't really remove the memory yourself. That takes an accomplished legilimens."

Harry saw the logic. "So he brought out a copy, changed it and put it back in?" He slumped in his seat. "That means I have to actually have him hand it over." He had feared that was the only solution; he had hoped to find another way. "I bungled that last time with him." He kicked the chair across from him.

Hermione looked at the notes, pensive.

"Is there any way we can force it from him?" Harry asked idly, a small amount of hope in his voice.

"Don't even joke about that." She said distastefully. "To rape someone's mind is something we shouldn't even consider." She gave him a penetrating stare.

"You're right…but I just don't know any other way." He sounded dejected.

Hermione nodded to herself, grateful her friend had not seriously considered the horrible idea. She placed a hand on his, giving him some comfort. "We'll figure something out, Harry, I promise. We'll make this our top priority."

He regarded her solemnly. "Thanks."

* * *

"I'm not that good on a broom." Daphne spoke with some trepidation as she warily mounted his firebolt.

Harry brushed aside her worries. "It's really not that hard, especially if you have a good broom."

Daphne swallowed nervously and kicked off, choosing to only float a few feet off the ground. A bright smile dominated her face when she saw how easy it was. "This is nothing like the first flying class we had." She marveled. She started the broom forward, choosing to fly a circle around Harry, careful to not go too high.

Harry chuckled. "To be honest those brooms weren't very good. And old." He shook his head in wonder. "The charms were fading on them quickly, it's no wonder Neville lost control like he did."

"Oh!" Daphne found herself floating higher, but a bit of concentration brought her back down. "It's no wonder he broke his leg." She glanced to the left and saw the expanse of the lake laid bare. She willed the broom forward at a sedate pace. "Let's go for a walk." She did not bother to wait for his ascent, before angling towards the lake's shores.

Harry smiled softly and followed behind her. They traveled in silence for a time, him enjoying the cool afternoon, on a rare sunny day, with a lovely witch at his side.

"You were pretty incredible that first class, you know."

"Huh?"

She giggled at his clueless expression. "Remember when you caught that thing of Neville's? The one Malfoy tossed?"

Harry smiled at the memory; it was one of his most treasured. "Yeah, it's what got me on the team."

A contented lull fell between them, and Harry wondered if this was what happiness was like. No worries of madmen and Death Eaters. Just a bloke and a girl. He stole a glance at her, eyeing her pale legs, exposed from her straddling the broom. She cleared her throat. "Like what you see?" Harry's face became flushed. He looked away. The red deepened when she laughed. "You're very cute when you blush, did you know that?"

"No, I didn't know that." He looked around awkwardly, seeking an observation that could change the subject. His eyes alighted on the clouds. "Would you like to go higher?" He asked too quickly.

She looked up and considered his question. "Sure. Any pointers?"

His face became serious as he ran his hands over the wood. "Grab hold and don't let go. Let your hands guide where you go, not the broom." She looked at him quizzically. "You can control the broom with your magic, but it's hard to steer. So just use your hands to steer and your magic to move it forward. Since firebolts are so receptive you have to keep that in mind." His hands found the bristles and he fiddled with them a moment, fanning them out.

"What are you doing?"

"Slowing you down. Firebolts are fast, really fast. The bristles are used as lag in turns and accelerating. If you want to make your right turns sharper, you adjust the bristles. If you want more maneuverability and less acceleration, you fan them out." A few more moments passed until he was satisfied. "I need to replace a few of them, they broke in the last game, but I haven't found the time."

"You know a lot about brooms, don't you?" She sounded impressed.

He shrugged off the compliment. "Any Quidditch player takes care of their broom." He thought of Ron's own messy broom. He amended his statement. "Any_ serious_ Quidditch player."

She quirked her head to the side, an odd expression on her face, one that seemed out of place to Harry. "You know, I think you're good enough to go pro after school. Everyone thinks so, except Malfoy." The expression faded away, replaced with a more familiar one. "Though, he'd never give you any credit if he could help it."

They shared a quick laugh before he gave her a few more pointers. "Keep your head down, and if you're going too fast, don't panic! Just slow down. It's that simple." He gave her an encouraging smile before she rose into the air.

He watched her flying with some trepidation, he had his wand out in case she fell. In time, she got the hang of it, effortlessly accelerating and decelerating, she even got brave enough to try a loop-to-loop. Finally, she returned to earth, her face flushed with exhilaration and a smile that would not fall. "That was amazing!" She said, trying to remember how to walk. She stumbled a bit, but regained her balance.

In that moment, as Harry slung the broom over his shoulder, Daphne seemed more real, more genuine, than she ever had. _She needs to learn to cut loose more often._

"Do you think we could do this again sometime? I really enjoyed it." She gave him hopeful eyes. The genuine expression faded.

"Sure."

As they walked towards the castle their conversation shifted to idle talk of the upcoming game.

That night, as Harry performed his usual routine, thoughts of a red-haired girl were chased from his mind by a raven-haired maiden, and the kiss she had once bestowed upon him.

* * *

"Oh for Heaven's sake! I only asked you to the dance to make someone jealous! There is _nothing_ between us!" Hermione raged, as she whipped her wand out and pointed it under her agitator's nose.

Cormac McLaggen bid a hasty retreat, bringing his hands up to indicate he meant her no harm.

She eyed him like a hawk until he left the common room. Their encounter had garnered several people's attention. She looked to them. "Yes?" She snapped. They hastily went about their business.

Hermione quickly scanned the room and muttered a few choice words. Harry Potter was nowhere in sight. _He's not in the library, either._ Her eyes fell on Ginny and Dean, sitting with a few others their year. If anyone might know it was Ginny.

She deftly maneuvered herself through the sea of students, quickly stepping over books, bags, and outstretched legs until she was by her friend's side. "Got a minute?"

Ginny nodded and rose. "I'll be back." She gave her friends a quick smile before being ushered from the scene.

Once alone Hermione wasted no time. "Do you know where Harry is?"

Ginny 's concerned face became guarded and she drew away from Hermione. "No." She answered curtly.

Hermione was puzzled, but had no time to worry about Ginny's change in attitude. "Do you know where he might be?"

Ginny looked heavenward. "Have you tried a closet?"

Bewildered, Hermione shook her head. "What? Where did that come from?"

"Oh, get off." Ginny spoke annoyed.

Hermione stiffened her back. "I'm sorry?"

"You really don't know?" Ginny sounded surprised. "You spend a lot of time with him."

"No, I don't know and yes I do, but these past few weeks I've only really seen him in the library. We've been doing research for Dumbledore. Outside of that not much." She failed to mention a lot of her time was being devoted to finding out about the Greengrass family. Of which she was expecting a parcel from St. Mungo's Maternity Ward.

"Oh. Well, he's been hanging around that chit recently, and I'm pretty sure they're now an item." She sounded grave and forlorn.

It took a moment to realize who Ginny was referring to. "Daphne?"

"Yeah."

Hermione brought a hand to her head. "Not to be a stick in the mud Ginny, but you have no right to get jealous. You're dating someone yourself."

"Only because you said I should!" She hollered, her temper flaring suddenly.

Hermione absently cast a silencing spell around them; some things needed to be said in private. "Don't pin this blame solely on me." She said heatedly, matching Ginny's anger. "I told you to date around and have fun, wait for him to notice. _Not_ date his dorm mates to try and make him jealous." The red anger in Ginny's face was replaced by the red of embarrassment. She looked away. "I thought as much. I never said he wouldn't date other women. I just said, 'give him time'." Hermione's anger was quickly cooling.

"I might have lost my chance." Ginny spoke with an edge.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're fifteen," she said exasperated. "You still have plenty of time. If you really want him that badly, dump Dean, interrupt Daphne and Harry, and snog his brains out. Problem solved."

Ginny met Hermione's chilly gaze. "You make it sound easy. Why don't you show me how?"

"I'm sorry."

Ginny smiled sweetly. "Go find my brother and show me how."

Two red points appeared in Hermione's cheeks, with some effort she maintained her composure. "This is stupid," she said plainly.

Ginny smirked. "Not so easy, then is it?"

Hermione shook her head and canceled the spell around them. _This is getting me nowhere. _She walked away, hearing Ginny sniff as she left.

_That could have gone better._ She thought as she exited the common room. Lately, she had not felt like herself, being worried about her classes, getting the memory from Slughorn, her suspicion's about Daphne...

_Ron. _She let out a long breath. _I spend too much time thinking about him._ Realizing that train of thought would get her nowhere, she resumed her search.

It was later in the day that she finally got a hold of Harry eating dinner in the Great Hall and asked if Slughorn had ever mentioned his mother to him. The conversation went quickly from there, as Harry remembered Slughorn wishing he had acquired her when he had first met the professor.

"How'd you know?"

She shrugged. "I've been thinking about a personal connection between the two of you for some time. Dumbledore obviously used you to tempt Slughorn here, but there is more to you that he thinks you could get the memory from him. He mentioned your mum at the party, remember?"

Harry shrugged. "Not really."

"He did. I only now just made the connection."

"So what should I do? Somehow use that to get the memory?" It sounded near impossible.

Hermione, too, was at a lost. "We'll think on it. Ask some of the professors for ideas about their relationship." Both stared at one another and thought of Snape. Then they thought of Snape romantically pursuing his mother. They cringed and shared a look of disgust. "Someone besides him."

Harry agreed, trying to keep his dinner down.

Hermione wanted to shift the conversation towards Daphne but wished to avoid an argument. At least until she had more information on her.

It was the next morning at breakfast that the missive from St. Mungo's dropped into her morning eggs. Harry was seating across from her and Neville next to him. Neither blinked an eye, used to her incoming-mail falling into her meals. Hermione swiftly tore into the envelope, thanking herself for setting up so many correspondences earlier in the year; it had been an attempt to see what the job market was like out in the Wizarding World.

She scanned the birth record, checking for details that stood out. The father signed three days after delivery. The nurse made a note about the child being underweight and the mother looking sick giving birth. Her middle name was Helena. The she read who had accompanied the mother in the father's stead; Daphne's godmother. She dropped the letter in shock and it took a moment for her mind to begin working again.

Neville and Harry gave her concerned looks.

With trembling hands she retrieved the letter for a second time from her eggs. She looked to Harry and spoke gravely. "We need to talk." She paused. "Alone."

* * *

**A/N::** Well, there's the first chapter, written quite a few months ago. The entirety is finished and waiting on my hard-drive for one more read-through before posting, this being the case I'll be updating once a week, like I did with The Eternal Legend, save this will be about 170,000 words less. :). I will say this now: only the first two chapters have been beta'ed, by celeborn01 and swimdraconian. One has a fairly original Zelda fic worth checking out, his writing style is very engaging, the other has an HP fic that is not your usual Harry-goes-back-in-time. I suggest checking out both for an entertaining read.

Post the two chapters, nothing has been reviewed by anyone save myself, so there may be several well-intentioned bumps. As with a lot of my work, there will be grammar problems that I tend to not notice in my edits, no matter how hard I try. So to both fronts, I ask anyone to point them out and I'll correct what I can as I go along. On the lines of critique...all is welcome. Praise is nice, but I'd prefer hard truth over flowery renditions, that includes flames to those so inclined; expect the usual response.

As is customary, I would like to thank all who have read this and hopefully enjoyed. I write mainly for myself, but it's nice to know people can garner enjoyment from it.

**EDIT: **Changed a few lines to lesson Hermione's focus on Ginny and Harry's relationship and added more on her suspicions of Daphne. Caught a few grammatical errors. If you see any drop me a line; I'm no good at catching them while editing.

**EDIT 2:** Adjusted the dialogue to make Hermione appear less testy, inserted a missing word, and added a few lines to justify Hermione's stress. Thank-you to the reviewers who catch these things. With your help the final product will be something I can be proud of.

-byl, out.


	2. Chapter 2: Fulfillment

On schedule.

**The Lies that Bind.**

**Chapter 2: Fulfillment**

He sat behind a desk of dark wood, scrolls and various objects strewn atop it. Red eyes ignored the clutter and concentrated on the dark-swathed figure before him. Calmly, he let their report sink into his mind, bringing with it a stirring of hope and impatience. Images of the boy lying at his feet, his green eyes consumed with fear, danced within his twisted mind.

A sick smile crawled across his face. "This is good news. This is very good news." He tried to keep the elation from his cold tone but his excitement, his anticipation, was hard to suppress. "You sound confident. How sure are you?"

"Very, m'lord."

He nodded, mastering his emotions, reigning in his elation. Hope died and pragmatism grew from its grave. "I'll not let this stop any of my other plans. Go forward as you see fit, but if your agent fails to deliver the boy, you will feel my wrath."

His follower paled, no doubt wondering to his sudden lost interest. They looked to speak but hesitated; he waved his hand, granting permission.

Their request was not unreasonable, given success. "Yes, I will mark them if you two succeed." He paused, bringing his wand before his eyes for examination. "However, failure will result in death."

With a casual glance his red eyes purveyed his follower's reaction. Fear shone in those dark eyes. "Leave me." He waved his hand and his follower fled.

He shook his head. _Oh, how the mighty shall fall._

He leaned back in his chair, letting sweet images of Harry Potter's pain play through his mind. It left a crooked smile on his inhuman face.

* * *

The sun crept below the horizon outside the castle windows in the library. Most students had already left the room, leaving piles of books for the irritable Madam Pince to put away. She glanced and saw a group of Ravenclaws studying herbology and Harry Potter sitting alone stooped over a parchment. He looked tense and she felt his magic wavering. She avoided him and swallowed the biting comment that had formed on her tongue.

He had waited most of the afternoon for her here. Waited and waited, the knot of anger growing tighter and tighter in his gut.

"Hullo, Harry." Came a melodic soft voice, with just a touch of aristocracy in it.

As usual her hand trailed his shoulder as she took a seat next to him. Normally, he would enjoy the soft touch, but the ball of hot rage in his mind demanded she be slapped for it. He kept a firm lid on that emotion for the moment.

She happily removed her books and gave him a sincere smile that melted when she locked gazes with two blazing green eyes. "What's wrong?" Dread ruled her hushed voice.

Harry took a deep breath. "Who's your godmother?"

Daphne froze and fear seeped into her dark blue eyes. With shaking hands she gripped the table. "Why's it matter?"

It seemed she was stalling for time. "Who is your godmother?" Harry punctuated each syllable clearly. To spur her to answer he brought his hand u. She beheld the wand gripped within it, its magic intended for her.

"Bellatrix Lestrange." The words came out slow and leaden.

The white-hot fury exploded in his mind but the pleading in her watery eyes barely kept the raging fire restrained. Even as he thought of giving her a chance to explain, images of his dead godfather fueled the flame. The same bitch that had torn Sirius from his life had helped raise this girl. "Explain."

Daphne composed herself carefully. "Yes, she is my godmother, but we're not close." He narrowed his eyes. "She was in Azkaban most of my life!" Daphne quickly asserted. "How could she have any influence on my life if she was locked away?" Her voice was frantic.

The reasoning was sound, but who would name an active Death Eater a godmother to their unborn daughter if they were not involved with the Death Eaters. "So your oh-so-honest parents just named her your godmother because they liked her personality?" A memory surfaced of her taunting baby voice. He closed his eyes and looked away trying to retain control.

Daphne's heart rate peaked and sweat formed on her brow. "N-no. It was a favor to Lestrange's mother. Lucretia Black had always been close with my grandfather; on my father's side."

Lucretia Black would have been Sirius' aunt. "So they let a known Death Eater be named their daughter's godmother?" he asked incredulous. _Does she think I'm really that stupid?_

"No! Please, listen. We didn't know. Honest! My family doesn't associate with people like that! It wasn't until the trials that everything came out in the open. I swear!" Tears were falling down her cheeks.

The raw emotion in her eyes was enough to quiet some of his anger, but it was still there, lurking behind his green eyes. "Did you set-up Blaise to get to me?"

She flinched as if struck. "Do you really believe that? That I would put myself at the mercy of another Slytherin…to what? Get you to associate with me?" Now she sounded incredulous.

He admitted it sounded like a stretch, but her godmother was Bellatrix Lestrange. A single damning fact that he could not ignore. "Bellatrix hasn't tried to pay you visit? She didn't stop in to say, 'hello?'"

Daphne bit her lip. "She did. She came looking at the beginning of the summer, hoping to find support." She glanced away. "She threatened my father with…You-know-who," she whispered. "Said terrible things could happen to me and my sister if he didn't help."

_She has a sister?_ The sad tale was enough to finally quench the fires in his mind, but he had to ask one last thing. "Show me your right arm."

Already knowing what he was searching for she pulled up the sleeve to reveal nothing but pale, unblemished skin. "Shall I go further?" She tried at a joke.

He frowned; her timing was poor. She dropped her arm and the sleeve slid down.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, making it more a mess than it was. "Listen, I'm sorry I reacted that way. It's just…"

She lifted her gaze from the table. "I know. It's part of the reason I never mentioned it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. So does…?"

He shook his head. "I need to some time to accept it, alright? That bitch murdered my godfather."

She opened her mouth but no words came forth. After another moment of hesitation she managed, "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

He shrugged and stood, reclaiming the blank parchment in front of him. He walked away, unable to bear the subject anymore.

"See you around?" She asked tentatively.

He turned and sighed. "Sure." He left with sagging shoulders and confused thoughts.

* * *

In the following weeks, Quidditch matches came and went and Harry spent less time jumping between his two friends. They were still at odds, but at times they managed to be civil when around him, but he wondered how long the peace would last. Ginny, for Harry, was also something that had been waning from his mind of recent. Sure she was beautiful, popular, smart, and funny. Yet things were piling on top of him. Voldemort had done another series of attacks on wizarding homes across the country, and Harry was stressing more and more over Slughorn's memory. These added together made him feel his pursuit of Ginny was something he should not focus on.

To him she was carefree, removed from the mire of danger and destiny that was his life. A non-factor, and as he refocused himself on the important things, she fell to wayside. Maybe when all this was over he could try something with her. Start a family? Maybe. _What about Daphne?_ That was a sore thought for him. His happy fantasies involving her had soured in his mind since the revelation about her godmother. He still found her physically appealing, but she was tainted by her associations. Ginny, on the other hand, had so such blemish.

While eating breakfast in the Great Hall he raised the topic of Ginny with Hermione wary of Ron's reaction. Hermione was seated across from him, with Ron to the left. "You know how I feel about Ginny, but for now I think it's best if she not become involved with me. There's just too much danger and I don't want to see her hurt."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, her voice brimming with sympathy.

"Oi! Hut?" Ron quickly swallowed his food. "You had a thing for my sister?" It was not surprising he had not noticed.

Hermione gave him a testy stare but held her scathing comment. "Yes, and she for him."

"How do you know?" Ron and Harry asked simultaneously.

Hermione turned pink. "She…told me last year," Hermione confessed.

Harry stared, his mind making a few connections. "You were trying to set her up with me, weren't you?"

Hermione squirmed in her seat as two pair of eyes scrutinized her. "Well, yes. I was trying to set you two up."

"That's a funny way of doing it, since she's dating other people besides Harry." Ron's face was becoming red. "Didja tell her to date Dean?" he declared. He narrowed his eyes, suspicion lurking within.

Hermione's eyes blazed at Ron's attack. "What if I did, Ron? What would it matter to you? Who she sees has nothing to do with you."

Ron's eyes widened. "I'm her big brother and I have to make sure she doesn't get hurt!"

Hermione sniffed. "More like an overbearing oaf. Do you treat Lavender this way Won-Won?" Hermione mimicked Lavender, her face becoming a vacant mask of adoration.

Ron lost his voice as he struggled for a come-back. It was then that Harry slammed his fists on the table, startling both his friends and most of the people that had been watching. "Stop it!" He snarled.

"She started it!" Ron pointed Hermione's way.

She scoffed. "Pleas—"

"Stop it!" Harry said a little louder. This time they looked abashed and their gazes sought their laps.

An apology was uttered from both, but it was too little too late. On top of his already stressful life, he did not need to quibbling friends.

It was then a female raced by their table, her sobs catching his attention. Harry recognized the black hair and small frame as belonging to Daphne. He gave his two friends another stare before rising and following his distraught friend from the Hall. At least in her company he could avoid pointless squabbles.

When he emerged into the halls she had disappeared, but a quick check with the Marauder's Map confirmed which hall she had fled down. He darted after her, intent on leaving the Great Hall behind. While in pursuit, he realized that a part of him actually did care about what had upset her. Time had dulled the revelation of her who her godmother was.

He finally caught her as she was disappearing into a classroom, her robes trailing behind. He entered it swiftly and found her sitting in the corner weeping, a letter clutched harshly in her hands.

Carefully, he approached her form, waiting for her to look up, now unsure if this was such a good idea. He realized belatedly he had only used Daphne's exit as a means to escape his bickering friends.

"Go away!" Came her sharp voice.

This had been a bad idea; he turned to leave.

"Harry?" she asked bewildered. "Wait…don't go."

He stopped and turned, feeling suddenly awkward. Him and crying girls had never truly gotten along, but now he was stuck. "Okay," he mumbled and made his way to the corner.

She gestured to the stone floor next to her and he took the hint. After taking a seat she leaned her head on his shoulder, trying to curtail her sobs. She was partially successful. Daphne snuggled up to him and he put his arm around her on impulse, wishing he were elsewhere.

"Thanks, Harry, for caring," she said next to him.

At her words, a bubble of warmth spread from his gut. His arm around her tightened.

"Here, take a look."

He took the letter from her shaking hand and smoothed the wrinkles as best he could.

_Dearest Daphne,_

_ How are things going at Hogwarts? Are you studying like you should? Keeping an eye out for your younger sister for me? These are troubling times for the family and we'll need you to keep an eye on her. There's been some nasty business that came up at home and me and your father have decided that it would be best if you and Astoria spent the summer with your aunt across the channel._

_ A wide estate for you to spoil yourselves rotten and several days to explore the Paris stores. Maybe look into a few fashions for next year? Me and your father will make sure you'll be supplied with plenty of money for whatever you want to do. It's never too late to go out and enjoy life's pleasures. Maybe you should do a tour of the Alps? Go see Berlin or Moscow? Things in England I think are becoming too dull._

_ Keep that in mind, honey. We'll see you when you get off the Hogwarts Express this summer._

_ Love, Mum and Dad._

Harry slowly lowered the letter, getting a hint of the trouble brewing in Daphne's home. "I'm sorry." He managed at last, handing the letter back to her. "Does that mean…?"

She nodded as a fresh round of tears filled her eyes. "It means they're chosen to side with the Dark Lord."

Harry blew out a long breath. "You don't support him?"

She shook her head. "He's mental. I couldn't follow anyone like that." Her head lowered. She mumbled something he missed, but he caught the phrase 'cold world.'

He looked to the ceiling. "Would they try to get help from Dumbledore?"

She shook her head. "No. There would be no point. The moment they tried they'd die or we would disappear."

Resolved settled in Harry's shoulders. "Dumbledore could shelter them until this blows over. You could join your parents when school lets out."

She snorted. "Right, because me and my sister are really safe here. Are you serious? One person has been attacked this year alone. There was a basilisk trying to kill people back in second year and You-know-who taught some of us! Yeah, we're all really safe."

Harry felt irritated with her tone, but could not argue the logic. Safe as everyone was, Hogwarts had been tested quite a few times over the years.

"Besides, nobody knows how long this will last. How long will everyone have to hide or pick a side? I can't go on living in such a horrible world." She hung her head and wept, drawing away from Harry and into herself. Again she mumbled, words Harry missed save for 'die alone.'

He groaned as the girl next to him wept. Things had seemed to be going so well, too. He placed his hands in front of him and remained quiet. He wondered how long this whole mess would last. Until he had killed the Dark Lord or been killed by him. _Why am I even in school learning about stupid potions when I should be out there learning how to fight! _The answer was simple: he trusted Dumbledore.

Wrapped in his own thoughts he missed her whispered words. "Huh?"

"I said, 'kiss me.'" She looked to him with shimmering blue eyes, an unspoken need lurking within them.

His breathing deepened and he lost his voice.

"Please." She begged of him. Her lips parted, inviting him in.

Harry hesitated, and in that moment Daphne leaned in and kissed him; Harry flinched but her lips were insistent. The warmth playing across his mouth momentarily kept him from stopping her, and when her tongue parted his lips, a spark shot down his spine. The same sparked he had been fantasizing about since their first meeting. Soon she was kissing him more, forcing him back against the wall and pressing her body desperately against his own. For long moments they engaged each other, until the thinking part of his mind surfaced. Slowly, he fended her off and gave himself room to breathe.

She leaned back. "What did I do wrong?" She asked, her voice trembling.

"Nothing." He quickly soothed her. "It's just…" he shook his head, unable to comprehend how this had happened or why she would want it. "Why?"

She looked down and her lips quivered. "I don't know. Everything in the world is going down in flames. My family could die at any time." She drew a breath and looked him in the eye. "I could die at any time. Is it so wrong to find some love somewhere? With you?"

He gave her a troubled expression, understanding her point but not how it related to him. "Why me?"

She chuckled harshly through the tears. "Who else? Malfoy?" Harry looked sick at the idea. "Blaise, maybe? They're pretty close to the standard Slytherin. And they would all want something from me. Some favor. But you," hope consumed her eyes, "you didn't want anything from me when you saved me. You just did the right thing. And when I was in trouble, you became my friend and protected me. No one's ever done anything like that before." She ended with a quiet whisper.

"Yeah, I can see all that." _Hell, given those choices I'd rather kiss Hagrid than those snakes!_

"Then what's so wrong about it?" She asked leaning closer. "Am I not attractive enough?" Her voice grew deep.

Thinking was becoming difficult. "No…er…you're pretty…"

"Then make love to me."

_What!_ His mind was screamed. _Where did that come from?_

She did not wait for his assent before fervently resuming their session. His resistance lasted as long as it took for her tongue to once more explore his mouth. From there his fantasies returned to the forefront of his mind and he was returning the favor in kind. She repositioned herself so that he could feel her weight on his lap. It ignited the last piece of his resolve. He gave one last half-hearted push to ease her away.

She leaned back, her eyes laying bear to him all her vulnerabilities. "Please…" Her voice was a low, fragile whisper. That look shattered the last of his resolve. With the blood pounding in his ears and descending to his waist, Harry Potter closed his eyes and succumbed to her needs.

* * *

He was restless later that night, with a clear starry-sky above him. His invisibility cloak was tossed to the side in a heap, having served its purpose of getting him to the top of the astronomy tower undetected; it was past curfew. He was lying on his back, a cushioning charm between him and the hard stone floor. A cold wind was blowing and whispering across his face, but he ignored it as his thoughts dwelt upon the raven-haired woman he had shared an intimate moment with. It was within her arms he discovered how delicate she was and how the world had torn down what defenses she possessed. In the throes of ecstasy she had laid herself bare to him, and it had touched him on a level no one had before.

It left him feeling overwhelmed.

He recalled their first fumbled moments, her desperate to get the room ready as he secured the door. That had been his last chance to escape, but her doleful look stopped that idea. Then came the awkward moment of figuring out the act, then the pain in her eyes as he penetrated her. He first thought he had done something horrible, there had been blood, but her moans had quieted that fear. From there the memories blurred as carnal need overcame reasoning. All he knew was in the end he had felt satisfied and oddly content with her sleeping peacefully within his arms.

Yet, here he was staring at the sky trying to figure out the ramifications of their sacred act. Would there be more? He held hope for that possibility because despite the emotional quandaries, the act had felt great. However, could he honestly ask her to do it again, having an inkling she did not do it out of liking him but just wanting to be loved?

He scowled; that thought soiled his hopes. Yet, she had looked so comfortable with her body relaxed next to his, so content. Another question he needed settled was if they were now officially going out. To him it was obvious. They had shared in an intimate moment, but with his little to no experience in this field, he was not sure.

How would Hermione react? How would Ginny?

He sighed. Did he still like Ginny? He paused in his thoughts, examining to himself what he thought of his best mate's sister. For a long moment he held his breath, unwilling to admit the truth to himself. It was useless; he still held an attraction for her. But…

He abruptly sat up and tried to stare a hole in the crenellations surrounding him. He just fucked a girl. A very pretty girl. He smiled crookedly, remembering his sweet release. There were a lot of things to be worried about and there were several ramifications. He would worry about them when the time came. Instead of worrying about how things could be, he should be more concerned about how he wanted things.

Daphne was a very attractive girl and obviously he felt something for her if he was willing to go that far with her. Ginny may be pretty and energetic and fun and smart, but she had chosen Dean. If she had wanted him so bad she should have let him know. Daphne had let him know, had come to him in a moment of need. Regardless of Ginny, he had his girl and her world was on the verge of falling apart. Tomorrow he would tell her he wanted to be her boyfriend and that he would be there to help her. He protected her once before and he could do it again.

With a tremendously satisfied smirk, he gathered his invisible cloak and made his way to bed, dreams of a raven-haired beauty following.

* * *

"You've been doing _what?_" Hermione hissed, suddenly pulling Harry aside in the busy hallway. She found a nook against the wall and led him there.

He tried to keep the goofy smile from his face. "Having sex."

"Typical male reaction." She shook her. "First notch on your belt, eh, Chosen-one?" She asked. "Who's next? Romilda? Ginny? How long have you two been doing it? Months?

"Only a couple weeks, and it's not like that!" He spoke in low and shoved his face close to hers, his green eyes blazing. "We didn't do it just to do it."

She backed away and looked to the side, catching some passersby whispering about them. She bit her lip in doubt. _I overreacted…_

"She was crying about a letter from home because—" He shook his head. "I can't say, but she's got it in a bad way and it involves the war. That's how we started. The first time she said she wanted to feel love and we started kissing." He sighed as he recalled how forward she had been. "Things just took off from there."

"Oh." She responded lamely. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed. I knew you weren't like that. I was only…"

"Shocked?"

"Yeah…"

He backed away seeing her mollified. "You're not the only one." He chuckled. He suddenly remembered Ginny's link to Hermione. "And don't say 'what about Ginny.' Far as I'm concerned she had her chance but she didn't do anything."

She frowned. "I wasn't going to say that."

"Still, I don't want her to know."

Hermione sighed, imagining Ginny's crestfallen reaction. "I won't tell her." Though for different reasons than her friend's.

"I think it's bad enough she's dating a bloke but waiting for another." He shook his head.

"What right do you have to judge her?" Hermione asked with a frown.

"You're the one that advised her to do it." Harry accused.

She stiffened her shoulders and leaned forward. "I told her just to have fun. We're teenagers for Christ's sake, Harry. None of us should be thinking seriously about relationships."

His eyebrows rose. "Did she tell him she was just having fun? From the way Dean's talking, he's taking it pretty seriously."

Hermione glowered, if Ginny was not up front with her boyfriend, it was not her fault. "What about you and Daphne? How serious are you two becoming?"

"I think from I'll keep that to myself, wouldn't want to land in a boat like Ginny's in." He said derisively.

Hermione looked like she had been slapped; a hurt expression dominated her face.

Harry's patronizing mindset wilted. With a sigh he reached out and gripped her shoulder. "I'm sorry, you didn't deserve that."

She met his gaze and nodded. "You're right…to a point."

Harry smiled at her attitude.

"I should've just had her ask you out, but I know how you can get when it comes to opening up. It's not something you're good at. I figured you would just see her in your own time. I figured with Voldemort loose you would be too occupied to really pursue anyone, anyway."

Harry mulled over her reasoning and saw the logic of it. If Daphne had not pursued him as she had, he would probably still be mucking around about what do to with a girl. "You're probably right, but we'll never know."

She smiled. In the lull of the conversation Harry thought about the subject he was going to broach with her, before she had overreacted and dragged him to this nook. "I think I've found a way to get Slughorn's memory using my mother."

This piqued her interest instantly. "How?" She asked breathless with anticipation.

"Talk to him about my mum."

She gave him a skeptical look but waited before speaking, hoping there was more to the plan other than that.

He extrapolated. "Okay, he's the type of person who just works from behind others, right? Doesn't like getting involved with things because he'd rather stay comfortable. He was running around before Dumbledore tempted him with me, which means he really didn't want to fight or join, but he did. So now's he's halfway there, right? So what if I use my mum as way to guilt him?" He smiled at his own cunning.

Hermione mulled the idea over for a moment. "What would you say to him? How would you go about doing it?"

Encouraged, he explained. "My mum was in Gryffindor and fought the Death Eaters. He would've known that. So I ask him what my mum would think of him not helping her only son against Voldemort. That he holds the key to Dumbledore's plan and him not giving it up could cost me my life." She silent for a moment, uncertainty crept into his mind. "You don't think it'll work?"

"Oh, no! No, I think it's brilliant. I was just trying to see if there were any problems with it." She gave him an assuring smile. "And I think it'll work wonderfully. When do you think you'll ask him? Certainly not after class, he'll be on guard for you then."

"Right. What about before dinner? Maybe hide in my invisibility cloak and ambush him when's least prepared." He suggested.

She frowned. "I don't think that would work for him. He might just storm off."

"No, he's a stickler for propriety. He wouldn't do anything rude."

"Maybe…"

"I think I'll spring this on him tomorrow."

"Why wait? Just confront him now or after dinner."

Harry hesitated. "I think tomorrow would be better…"

"Harry, this is important and I don't think you should put it off." Her conviction was evident.

"We've waited this long, another day isn't going to change anything." He refused to meet her eyes.

Suspicion clouded her mind. "You doing anything particular tonight? Meeting someone, maybe?"

"It's none of your business," he said plainly.

She scoffed. "Try explaining that to the Headmaster. 'Sorry sir, I had to sew a few wild oats before finding the key to stopping Voldemort, hope you don't mind?' Harry, think about this, Slughorn's memory is far more important than your date tonight."

Red suffused Harry's face. "I think Dumbledore would side with me on this. He's a pretty big believer in love you know. Says it's my strongest trait."

Hermione sighed. "This isn't love, Harry. It's lust!"

"How would you know? I don't see you having much experience with it."

By then their voices had attracted unwarranted attention in the name of Severus Snape. He loomed like death over them. "Having a lover's quarrel are we?" he asked in his usual derisive tone.

Harry and Hermione shared embarrassed looks, though Harry's was underpinned by anger at the man.

"I'm sure the Daily Prophet would love to quote you again Potter, but there is no need to be so loud as to attract their attention."

Harry began to speak and Hermione gave him a warning look, one he ignored. "I wasn't trying to get anyone's attention. And we're not dating!"

Snape casually raised an eyebrow. "Shouting at a teacher, Potter?" He shook his head. "Five points from Gryffindor."

Harry opened his mouth in outrage, but Hermione grabbed his sleeve. "Don't." He shrugged her off but followed her advice.

"You should take your girlfriend's advice," Snape said smoothly.

"She's not my girlfriend. Daphne is," he said mutinously.

"Run along, Potter." He dismissed them with his hand, but he was no longer smiling. Hermione would even venture to say he looked troubled. Harry grabbed her hand and stormed from his potion professor's presence. In silence they marched until they were well into another hallway. "Harry, wait!" Hermione said, freeing her hand from his iron grasp.

He whirled. "What?"

"Did you see how he reacted when you mentioned Daphne?"

Harry shook his head. "Not this again, Hermione."

"But Harry—"

"No, enough is enough. You haven't liked her from the start, but I thought I explained to you about her godmother." His voice was again rising with his anger, which was already stoked from speaking to Snape.

"I know, and you did, but the way Snape acted…was odd. It's not like him."

He shook his head. "Whatever. I'm going. I guess I'll see you tonight."

Hermione brought a hand to her forehead, doubting her own calculating mind. Had she just imagined Snape looking worried? Yet, he was in Voldemort's inner circle and might know something. Frustration crowded her thoughts. _If only I knew more. _ She made her way back towards Gryffindor Tower.

After stalking the hallways and glaring at the younger years, Harry finally calmed down enough to think straight. Snape's harassment followed by Hermione's doubts had taken him over the edge of rational thought. The only saving grace for this afternoon was Daphne waiting for him in the Room of Requirement. That brought a beaming smile of anticipation to his face, and his nether regions twitched in anticipation as well.

He was in for a small disappointment, though, as he approached the wall that housed the entrance. Daphne was standing outside it instead of awaiting within. He frowned as he approached. "Something wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head and gave him a wonderful smile. "Not anymore." She stepped into his arms and gave him an exhilarating kiss. Finally, she broke away leaving him breathless. "You've gotten better, I think." She gave him a peck on the cheek for good measure.

"Thanks, I definitely can't complain about you."

"Good."

"So…what's going on?"

"Oh." She gave him a secret smile. "I was going to surprise you today with something special."

He gave her a hopeful look. "Okay."

He made to move into the room, but she caught his robes. "It's not in there," she said playfully.

Going along with her game, he spoke. "Where is it then?"

"In Hogsmeade."

His grin vanished like smoke. "Why in Hogsmeade?"

She leaned in closer, her breath fogging his glasses. "That's part of the secret. I spent most of the day setting it up for us. A nice little romantic spot where we can watch the sunset together and then maybe…" she gave him a quick kiss, "something else, if you want. Under the stars…" She let her voice trail with unspoken promises.

Harry swallowed nervously. He really liked the idea, but was wary of sneaking out. _If we stayed under my cloak and snuck out through the Whomping Willow's tunnel…_ He reasoned. "Sure." He said brightly. "We'll have to be careful, and I know the best way out."

"I've already found a way through one of the school's tunnels. It'll lead us right to the spot."

He shook his head, adamant. "I know another that no one knows about. It'll take us to the Shrieking Shack. Can you find the spot from there?"

She hesitated for a few moments, suddenly unsure. "Yeah, I can find the place. No problem." She gave him a reassuring smile.

"Great." He took her hand the two were off.

Through a side door they exited the castle with the sun nearing the horizon. Together they approached the Whomping Willow and he extracted his cloak. With expert motions, and before anyone could see, he covered them. Quickly, he levitated a small stick and hit the only knot on the tree's trunk. The swinging branches died and, laughing, he pulled an astonished Daphne towards the secret tunnel's entrance.

"Having an invisibility cloak must come in handy." Daphne commented as they made their way down the wet, dirt tunnel, their wands illuminating the way.

"It has over the years. It belonged to my dad once." He said, sweeping aside some gray moss hanging from the ceiling, allowing his companion to pass unmolested under it.

In time, they reached the Shrieking Shack. Carefully, they stepped over the shattered glass and pieces of broken furniture strewn around the building.

"I didn't know any of this was here," she whispered in awe at the aging building, her blue eyes widening at seeing the claw marks on the walls.

"It's a long story." Harry began. "I'll tell you about it sometime. It involves my dad and my godfather."

She nodded understanding his reluctance to speak of it now.

In silence, they exited the building under the cover of his cloak, watchful for any prying eyes. Daphne leaned end and whispered in his ear, her voice growing sultry. "It's not too far from here, actually. Just a ways behind the Three Broomsticks in a small clearing. That's where I have the surprise waiting."

Anticipation fueled his feet as they made their way through the outskirts of town, staying close to the tree line to avoid detection. A few times they saw Aurors patrolling and a few citizens walking. A gigantic dog started barking at them from someone's backyard, but its owner cast a silencing spell on it.

They finally reached their destination as the sun touched the distant horizon, bathing the area in pink and orange. Harry removed the cloak and looked around, expecting dinner or something to be waiting for them. Instead, there was only the grass and sparse flowers. "So where's the surprise?" he asked scrutinizing the clearing.

Unknown to him, Daphne had slowly backed away until she stopped on the edge of the clearing, her back to a tall tree. She remained quiet as Harry wondered around, an amiable grin on his face. "Well?" He pressed looking to her. When he saw her passive expression, he grew wary. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." Came a deep voice from the trees.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry reacted instantly.

"Protego!" Came a response just as quick.

Harry deftly moved out of the way as the spell rebounded. "Who's there?" he cried, his wand before him, his eyes scanning the shadows among the trees.

A woman straight from his nightmares, dressed in dreary black robes, emerged with gaunt cheeks and mussed hair. "What's a matter little pottey, afraid?" Bellatrix Lestrange asked in condescending tones, using the same baby voice he recalled from the Department of Mysteries.

Harry's face contorted in rage.

She smiled, the gesture making her appear hideous in the dying light. "How's your godfather?"

He snarled and responded with a quick spell. She parried it with ease. "You're fast, pottey, but you're no match. Just like Sirius."

Harry sent another spell in her direction. "Levicorpus!"

She giggled and blocked it but was forced to dodge another disarming spell. "Cute, boy, but speed won't save you." With a manic cry she began casting. A sick purple light came his way and he rolled to the side. He cast protego to block another one of hers and countered with a body-bind hex.

For a time they traded spells, dodging and parrying in the clearing. All around the ground erupted where their magic struck. Harry was momentarily surprised when Sectumsempra cut a large gash into ground. He almost fell to the pain curse do to his lapse in concentration.

Watching the display with dread and awe was Daphne, completely taken aback by the skills of her boyfriend. She was too shell-shocked to even attempt to help her godmother, who by now was no longer taunting Harry but actively concentrating.

Harry, remembering Bellatrix's advice from the previous year, poured his hatred of her into his next spell. "Crucio!" He called from behind a conjured rock as one her spells struck the stone cover.

The rock exploded after he cast, sending him, along with chunks of rock, flying backwards.

Sore, he shook the pain from his head and registered a dozen bruises throughout his body, where the remnants of the stone had impacted. He glanced up to see Bellatrix breathing haggardly on the ground across the clearing, her eyes dazed. His curse had ripped right through her shield and blown her off her feet.

He gained his feet, knowing he had to get the upper advantage, before she recovered. He stumbled a bit but managed to steady himself and his wand. "Expelliarmus!" The red jet of light flew from his wand's tip and struck Bellatrix as she was starting to rise. She rolled across the ground as her wand flew from her hand. As it soared in the air he numbly caught it. Harry's breathing increased with his excitement. He swished his wand again and conjured black ropes to bind the murderous Death Eater.

An insane grin bloomed on his face as he approached the bound, struggling woman. _I just beat Bellatrix Lestrange!_

Two burning black eyes speared him. "You'll regret this, pottey. Oh, will you regret this!" She spat at him.

For a long moment Harry pondered whether or not to cast Crucio on her. She certainly deserved it and the last image of his godfather was more than ample persuasion, but his conscious would not let him. _I don't want to end up like Voldemort._ The smile fell from his face.

It was then he remembered who brought him to this clearing. Slowly, he turned and directed a baleful gaze upon a weepy-eyed teenage girl. Under such scrutiny she wilted, eyes seeking the ground, hands gripping her robes to keep them from shaking. "Daphne?" He asked in a voice more calm than he felt inside. Behind his irises his mind churned with hatred, their discussion from weeks earlier fueling his anger. A thought from then struck him now. The same bitch that had torn Sirius from his life had helped raise this girl. The rage from then returned now, two-fold for her betrayal, for her stringing him along.

With quivering lips she found her voice. "I'm so sorry, Harry, I never meant—"

"Don't lie!" He screamed, the rage in his mind unleashed, the betrayal he felt in his stomach twisting his thoughts.

She flinched, but tried again. "No, listen! She made me do it, I didn't have a choice—"

"I said, 'don't lie!'" He slashed with his wand and the ground exploded near the distraught girl. He glanced at the scattered dirt spread across the grass, perplexed for a moment, even surprised he was capable of such violence. Then the bound form of Bellatrix justified his reaction. He trained his wand on the girl. "Don't lie." He said for a third time through clenched teeth

Her body looking frail, Daphne spoke once more, falling to her knees and holding her body tightly. She looked ill. "Please, Harry, believe me…" Tears leaked from her eyes, trailing slowly down her pale cheeks. "She had my sister Astoria. She threatened to do horrible things to her…if I didn't help her."

The words pierced Harry's heart, threatening to deflate his fury. "Shut-up!" he yelled, his wand shaking, his tone uncertain.

Daphne was rocking back and forth now, trembling. "She used me to get to you, told me how to turn you with my body…" she shuddered. "I didn't want to; I didn't, but my sister…" Fresh sobs escaped her mouth. "Astoria's going to die, I'm going to die…" in a hoarse whisper she ended, "…I don't want to die."

Harry's hand slowly fell, his rage directed upon the frail girl now impotent. With leaden feet he approached her, his arms wide and his eyes brimmed with sympathy. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he knelt in front of her. "I shouldn't have reacted like way." Guilt replaced his anger, just as strong as the former. With a cry she flung herself into his arms, melting into his embrace. He patted her hair and whispered softly into her ear. "I'm sorry."

For a time she wept, sobs wracking her body. Slowly they faded, and all that was left was a fragile girl that had been wrecked by war, forced to choose between her lover and her family. Harry felt pity for his girlfriend that had been destroyed by war. He vowed to bring justice to Voldemort once and for all.

Then she shifted and he felt a wand tip pock him in the chest. "Expelliarmus." Came Daphne's cool voice.

The disarming spell struck him, knocking him onto his back, while his wand leapt from his grasp. The spell had not been cast well hence his wand did not go far. Harry panicked, but reacted quickly, twisting and crawling across the ground, his hands fumbling for his salvation, while his rage rekindled. "Perfectus Totalus!" Came the same cool voice.

Inches from his wand, his body seized up and he straightened like a board, falling over, unable to stir. All he could see was the fading red of the sky, making way for the darkness of night, and all he heard were the shuffles of robes.

Bellatrix's face loomed in his vision with a nasty smile, just for him. "I told you you'd regret that, pottey. But first I think my Lord would like to have a few words with you. Are you coming, Daphne? After this little trip, I don't think it'll be very safe for you return to Hogwarts." Daphne entered Harry's vision and all he saw was red. He yearned to lash out at her, but the spell kept him bound. "That expelliarmus was very sloppy, dear," Bellatrix said giving her goddaughter a quick hug. "I'll show you how to do it right."

Harry felt something sharp slice its way through his guts as he watched his beloved girlfriend give his psychotic enemy a beaming smile. He could not believe how stupid he had been to trust her. Anger fell away in the face of self-deprecation. "Yes, godmother," was Daphne's proud response. She looked down upon Harry and in his mind he saw her fragile exterior transition into one of haughty superiority.

Bellatrix waved her wand and Harry's bound form rose into the air, straightening perpendicular with the ground. He was marched from the clearing until they were clear of the anti-apparition wards around the village, and the last Harry saw of Hogsmeade was the sun drowning beneath the horizon.

* * *

**a/n:** Well there's the second installment, right on time if I might proudly say. :D.(Kind of hard not to be on time when she's already written.) Anyway, once again I'm looking for anything that might be amiss or sound funny or any grammatical errors. Once pointed out I will endeavor to fix them.

As per usual, those that have read and enjoyed, I thank-you for your time. Next chapter will be next week.

**EDIT 1: **Went back and eliminated the genderless them, their, they from the start. Made it not seem so obviously ambiguous to the Death Eater's gender. Worked on cliched meeting with Daphne running by, hopefully feels less cliched.

-byl, out.


	3. Chapter 3: Helpless

Still on schedule

**The Lies that Bind**

**Chapter 3: Helpless  
**

It was cold. Harry knew that but little else. A foul smelling cloth filled his mouth and one covered his head. Hours ago, he learned that any noise he made was answered with a painful curse. There had been a lot of pain in the beginning. After several applications, he passed out. It was then he learned the prudence of remaining silent.

He felt no one dragging or pulling him, which meant he was being levitated. No sound entered his ears; he assumed a deafening-charm had been applied.

He did not know how long it had been since his capture. Surely not days; hunger was only now becoming an issue. He ignored the emptiness in his stomach for the more pressing need of escaping. At least, thinking of a way to escape. It was better than dwelling on fear.

His thoughts were interrupted when sound entered his ears. Dread gripped him. He moved his head about trying to hear more; anything that would help his predicament. Laughter was what he received. That meant people. Fear followed dread.

"Remove his blindfold." Came a cold and cruel voice, one that echoed in Harry's nightmares.

Harry flinched as light flooded his eyes.

A humorless laughter filled the room, quieting everyone. "Hello, Harry Potter." As the madman's laughter subsided, tomb-like silence reigned.

Growing accustomed to the light, Harry glanced about. He was in a vast room with a high ceiling, decorated in silk draperies and crystal chandeliers. Large paintings of regal looking men and women hung from the walls, their occupants straining their heads to get a better glance. Many held a passing resemblance to Draco Malfoy. In front of the paintings were over sixty people dressed in cloaks and bone-white masks, surrounding him and Voldemort. He noticed two were uncovered—Bellatrix and Daphne.

Like a caged animal, he desperately sought a means of escape.

Voldemort chuckled. "There's no help for you this time, Potter. No mother, no portkey, no Dumbledore." Voldemort glided forward, his snake-like face inches from Harry's. "Afraid?" He asked, his crimson eyes glinting. "Speak up, Potter, I can't hear you." Expectant laughter came from the watching Death Eaters. With a wave of his wand, Voldemort silenced them. The tall man stepped back, his wand glinting. The rag fell from Harry's mouth and the body-bind melted away. Freed, Harry launched himself forward. If he were to die, he was going to die fighting.

Voldemort swished his wand and Harry tripped, sprawling across the tile floor, stopping mere feet from his persecutor's black boots. The teen gazed at his reflection in the polished tiles, alongside Voldemort's merciless face. Anger consumed Harry, and he jumped to his feet. He had no time to react before he was dangling upside down, his shirt falling over his head. There he struggled, but more laughter gave him pause; Voldemort was toying with him.

Unceremoniously, the spell was canceled and he plummeted to the ground, striking his head upon landing. He cradled the injury, despite hearing more derisive amusement.

"I'll make you a deal, Potter. If you beg me to kill you, I'll make it swift." Voldemort's tone was indulgent.

Harry doubted the man would honor the deal. He raised his head and met those red, glee-filled eyes. "Never."

Voldemort shrugged before bringing his wand to bear. "_Crucio_," he whispered.

Harry's world became nothing but pain, and he writhed on the floor. Eternity past slowly for him, and all he knew was an all-consuming agony. As quickly as it came, it passed. With heavy breaths, Harry Potter gained his feet on unsteady legs.

For a moment, he and Voldemort stared at one other before the Dark Lord slashed with his wand. Harry toppled. "You are not my equal, Potter. You are a worm. You are beneath me." He paused. "And before you die, your last secret will be mine."

He strode forward, his robes whispering like silk with each step. Like a vulture, he fell upon Harry, his hands grabbing the sides of his head. With inhuman strength, Voldemort forced green eyes to gaze into his own. They locked and Voldemort descended into Harry's mind.

Sifting through the boy's scattered memories, he found what he sought. _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives..._

Voldemort removed himself from his adversary's mind, but not before a whisper of a memory caught his attention. _Horcruxes…_ Fear shot through him and anger followed. Brutally, he reentered Harry's mind, searching for any connection to the word. His search was not in vain.

With a cold malice filling his eyes, he raised his head, letting Harry's tired form fall to the ground. The hall was quiet; they could feel his displeasure.

Voldemort stepped away and paced, his thoughts whirling, trying to grasp the prophecy and what Dumbledore had pieced together. He paused in his gait and eyed the boy. _Only I can kill him and only he can kill me. Yet, neither of us can survive while the other lives. Somehow his life is tied to mine and mine to his. Somehow._ He raised his wand, the death curse upon his lips.

Harry looked up, saw the motion, and knew his end was near. He met death with defiance.

It never came. Slowly, the cold eyes of Voldemort became calculating. He scrutinized Harry. The expression sent chills down the teen's spine. Voldemort smiled. _To break the Wizarding World they must not know hope. They must see their Chosen-one begging for death. Broken and defeated. _Dumbledore will fall by the end of the year, the ring's curse, evident by the blackened hand he had seen, would see to that.

"Bella!" He barked.

She sprang forward, giving her master a deep bow. "My lord?"

"I will reward you greatly for bringing Potter to me." She looked to him with joy-filled eyes. He gestured to Harry. "I will give you the honor of breaking him for me. By the summer, I want him begging for death. I want him to plead for me, in front of the Ministry itself, to take his life. I want the Wizarding World to see their greatest hope broken, defeated, and beaten." In the interim, he would have time to explore the strange link they shared.

"My lord, the pleasure will be mine." Her eyes shined with anticipation.

Dread drove Harry's tongue. "Tom, you coward! Are you so afraid of me you can't do it yourself?" He ran forward, praying for a swift death. Anything was better than what awaited him in that harpy's black hands.

Rage suffused through Voldemort. He heard gasps of dismay from his Death Eaters. His wand was moving, and before he knew it the words were upon his lips. Then rigid control returned and another spell was cast instead. Red wires sprang around Harry, bearing the manic teen to the ground. They wrapped dozens of times around his body, digging into his skin. He struggled against the bindings, but they kept constricting, cutting off circulation to parts of his body.

Dealt with, Voldemort ignored Harry and walked towards his most loyal lieutenant. He had a final act to perform before dismissing all those assembled.

He stopped in front of Bellatrix, but his eyes fell upon Daphne. He smiled. "Your arm." He spoke softly.

Having his attention upon her, Daphne was frozen in fear. Voldemort grew inpatient. Bellatrix quickly interceded, grabbing Daphne's arm and rolling up the sleeve to expose her pale skin.

Voldemort pressed the tip of his wand to her skin. "_Morsmordre._" A snake slithered out from the wand's tip and burrowed into her skin. With his wand, Voldemort outlined a black skull, which the snake took residence in. The Dark Lord withdrew his wand to reveal the Dark Mark upon her arm. "We welcome one more to our ranks. One who helped bring Harry Potter to me."

As expected, there was cheering from all present.

Voldemort stepped back, one eye on Harry; the boy was known for being slippery. However, it seemed he had passed out. The fool had struggled until the bindings became too tight; they had slackened with his loss of consciousness. He glanced back to the young girl and remembered a similar ceremony last summer, involving someone near her age. The Malfoy scion had not looked near as pleased nor had he been as accepted as she. Of course, most knew Draco's entry had been punishment for the father rather than reward for the son.

The cheering and congratulating was grating his nerves, and he was going nowhere with Harry's body laying on the floor unattended. He gently cleared his throat and was pleased by the ripple effect of silence making its ways through his followers. With his wand, he pointed to Harry's prone form. "I believe, Bella, you have something to tend to."

She gave him a hasty bow before pulling out her wand and levitating the body. She spoke to her goddaughter. "Come, Daphne, I have much to teach you."

Voldemort gave his approval to Bellatrix's choice in student.

With his nemesis secured, he walked away, his thoughts twirling with questions. For the first time in a long while, he would need to do research. The thought had an odd appeal to it. He recalled excited nights in the restricted section of the Hogwarts Library. He did not have that resource now, but there were other centers of knowledge located in Britain.

* * *

Harry was awakened by a burst of magic, jolting his entire system into alertness. A rank smell followed and he tried to gag, but found his body prone and unwilling to comply; he was again under the body-bind spell. He no longer felt the wire bindings, which he felt was a good trade. He found himself in a darkened room. A deep chuckle came from behind and his form rotated, allowing him to see. What greeted him was Bellatrix Lestrange with Daphne Greengrass. Light haloed their bodies, from the hallway behind them, casting their expressions in shadow. He imagined they were not pleasant.

Bella motioned with her wand and his upright body moved further into the dark, foul-smelling room. Into a corner he was tucked, while Bellatrix's wand danced in a circle, the room was bathed in light. It was a small affair, eight feet by ten. The walls were made of gray stone, and he saw no signs of blood, though their lack did not make him feel any better. In the corner, where he floated off the ground, was a hole. It smelled of human waste.

"Now, listen closely, dear."

Harry first thought she was speaking to him, but realized Daphne was the intended recipient.

Daphne looked to her godmother and the older woman continued. "He must realize there is no escape for him. He must know that _no one_ can save him. No portkeys can be used here and no one can apparate." Her gaze shifted to Harry. "You must tell him that no one knows where he is at and that the only person he'll be seeing is us."

"Fuck off." He declared.

His declaration was met with an indulgent chuckle. "Let him speak his mind. It won't change anything. His words are empty." Harry gave her a defiant stare. It amused her. She addressed her goddaughter. "Now are you ready to watch, dear?" Daphne nodded enthusiastically. "Good."

Bellatrix pointed her wand at the captive. As the tip flashed, he found himself sprawled on the hard stone floor. He tried to rise but all he could do was lay on the ground, moving only his limbs. "The spell is called _Restrictus,"_ Bellatrix's was saying. "It prevents the victim from standing. That way he can still move while you're playing with him. Observe. _Crucio."_ Both women watched as Harry's body writhed in pain. She stopped. "If left like that for thirty minutes the wizard's mind breaks. I learned this from the Longbottoms."

"Bitch." Harry gasped, giving her a look of death.

"You see, Daphne? More empty words." She again applied the pain curse, just for a moment. "Now I'm going to show you an advanced technique I worked on last year. I'm quite proud of myself." She pointed her wand at Harry and whispered. "_Crucio metatarsal._"

It suddenly felt like a thousand needles were being driven into Harry's toe. Eyes going wide, he clutched it, rubbing it, hoping to ease the pain. "_Crucio tarsals_." Hot pain enveloped his foot. He grabbed it, jerking it around; anything to curtail the curse.

"Do you see the desperation in him? The sweat on his brow? The look in his eyes? Eventually, he would become like a crazed animal, willing to bite off his own foot to stop the pain." She canceled the spell and Harry gasped with relief.

"_Crucio metacarpal._"

Daphne watched as the desperate look overcame Harry once more. He grabbed his finger and bent it back and forth. Struggling under the spell that kept him pinned to the ground.

"_Crucio carpals._"

Harry groaned and desperately shook his hand. Seconds past before he started slamming it against the stone floor.

"Listen closely, this next part is important. Torture is about one of two things. You either do it just to do it, my personal favorite, or you do it to bend their will to yours. Since the Dark Lord as ordered me to break him for a specific task, we must bend him to our will. Oops." She had forgotten the pain spell. She canceled it and the wild look in Harry's eyes receded. He slumped against the floor, relieved, eyes closed and sanity slowly returning.

"First, you must set a goal for him, something you want him to do. Tell him clearly what it is; though make it small at first. His instinct will be not to do it. Second, make him do it. Observe."

She leaned in close. His blazing green eyes met hers and he spit in her face. "Fuck you."

She smiled sweetly. "Harry, I'm going to make you hurt, okay? All you have to do to make it stop is scream."

"Go to hell." He tried to spit again, but his mouth was dry.

"Just remember what I said." She stood and addressed Daphne. "Watch closely. Do not use this next technique until you have had plenty of practice. It takes precision, and done wrong, could kill him." She drew her eyebrows together in concentration as she pointed her wand at his heart. "_Crucio cor_."

Harry felt like someone had plunged a raging ball of fire directly into his chest. His body jerked and heaved as he searched for a way to stave it off.

With each pump of his heart the pain intensified, the pounding working in tandem with the curse to cause him agony, the blood pumping through the organ carrying echoes of the pain to every part of his body. The seconds ticked by until it stopped.

"_Crucio cerebrum._"

All vision, smell, feeling, and sense of self left Harry as it felt like his brain was being hit with a hammer. The pressure was so great he was surprised his head had not exploded. As the pain made its home in his cranium, he became aware of another pain, residing outside his skull. He realized absently he was bashing his head against the stone floor. Knowing this, he still did not stop, because it let him feel something else other than the agony dwelling in his brain.

Then something horrible happened. The pain shifted away from his brain, moving toward his spine. He felt it worm its way south like a hot poker through his tissues. It stopped at his spine, filling the bone and nerves with liquid fire. His back arched, stretching muscles until they screamed.

Watching mesmerized was Daphne, marveling at her godmother's control. She missed the sadistic look in the woman's dark eyes.

Harry could take no more and he screamed, the sound ripping from his throat. The pain instantly stopped and he relaxed on the floor, panting, feverish, exhausted.

With ginger steps, Bellatrix walked over and kissed Harry on the forehead. "You did a good job, Harry. I'm very proud of you."

With that, she collected Daphne and walked from the room, leaving Harry alone in the dark.

* * *

In a room lit by candlelight sat Lord Voldemort behind a large oak desk. In the corner was a bookshelf dotted with pureblood texts, trinkets, and potions; one being a full-body restorative, green in color, rank in smell. Behind him was a large portrait of Lucius Malfoy's late father. Sprawled in front of him were large tomes and scrolls in varying degrees of decay. Dust clung to most. The text in some was illegible. It was hand-written, marking the age to before the enchanted-press. Clasped in his hands was a large glass lens. It was spelled to make the words larger and plainly seen. He had acquired the many texts over the past two weeks, since Potter's capture.

There was a knock on the door. Voldemort looked up and frowned; he had told none to disturb him. He waved his hand and the door opened, revealing Severus Snape. Quickly, the man gave a deep bow.

"You are far from Hogwarts, Severus."

Snape glided into the room and stood before his lord, his dark eyes taking in the many texts and ancient words. "I have come to congratulate you."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow, irritation building within him. "You could not have sent an owl?" he whispered. His hand began moving to the wand resting on the desk.

Snape understood the warning residing within the sarcasm. He got to the point. "I have come to relay Dumbledore's thoughts on his missing pupil. As well to ask if our plan is still in effect." He gave another bow for good measure.

Voldemort's hand paused. "Did no one tell you I wished to be left alone?"

Snape shook his head. "Dolohov only told me where I could find you."

Voldemort focused his mind; Snape was not lying. _It seems Dolohov needs a reprimand. I don't care if they squabble, but their petty grudges should not interfere with me._ "Since you are already here, speak."

"The Headmaster is worried sick for the Chosen-one." He said the title with disdain. "But he is even more worried as to why you have not killed him yet."

Voldemort looked at Snape sharply. "How does he know Potter still lives?"

Snape shook his head. "I do not know. I would think he has an informant."

Cold rage seethed through Voldemort's body. He had been too lax with his new recruits, too ambitious in expanding his army. "It will be corrected." His tone spoke of death. "Go on."

Snape repressed a shudder. "He is desperate for me to rescue the boy, but I have warned him countless times it would be futile and cost him his spy." Snape gave his lord a wry grin.

Voldemort shared his mirth. "Fool he is to trust you, Severus. What of young Malfoy?"

Snape shook his head. "He grows desperate."

"As does his father rotting in Azkaban." Voldemort chuckled to himself. "Before you ask, Severus, yes, your orders for Dumbledore remain the same. If, by the end of the year, Draco has not killed him, then he must die by your hand."

"And your plans for Potter?" Snape asked, pressing the Dark Lord.

Voldemort gave him a severe look. "Do not presume you are my confidant. You remain high in my favor for now." He waved his hand, dismissing Snape. As he heard the door shut, he returned to his studies.

Outside, Snape was fuming. He was angry with himself for not being able to learn Voldemort's plans for Harry. He walked from the study, his footsteps quiet on the tiled floor. There was only one place they would be keeping Harry: the Malfoy's basement. Several rooms there designed for torture; specifically muggle torture. Though, he had heard a few cases of wizards staying there for a few nights.

He only hoped there was something worth saving. Harry had been in Bella's clutches for two weeks. That was as long as he dared wait before coming, hoping not to raise Voldemort's suspicions. If, however, he was successful, he did not doubt that Voldemort would seek his death as arduously as he sought Albus'.

Like a shadow, he crept to the lower parts of the manor, avoiding detection. Most of the senior Death Eaters were gone, leaving the ignorant junior members. He hoped he did not look that pathetic when he first joined.

When he arrived at the dank basement, he cautiously searched the area. It had been near a year since he was here last. He gazed around the odd pieces of furniture, laced with cobwebs, and barrels of food. Around the corner, he found a hallway with four wooden doors. He cast a quick spell and learned only one was occupied. He drew a breath and opened the door. His wand, providing limited light, revealed his pupil.

Harry's robes were ripped and torn. His arms were exposed and blood seeped out of a collection of cuts. They looked amateurish, not at all like Bella's usual precision. He quickly went to the boy's side.

Snape summoned an orb of light and let it hang in the air as he brought his wand over the boy's frame. His face was unblemished, but he looked pale. He had lost little weight, which meant they had been feeding him; it hinted that Voldemort wanted the boy alive for some purpose. After casting a few charms, he learned of his physical state. It was not promising. He was on the verge of casting a few healing spells, when a cruel voice entered the room.

"Well, look what we have here."

Snape looked up to find Bella standing in the doorway, her wand drawn and glowing a baleful red.

Snape stood as gracefully as he could. "Bella." He nodded his head in respect.

She chuckled. "Really, now? Are you going to act innocent?" Her eyes danced maliciously.

"Innocent?" he asked shocked. "What are you talking about?"

Her certainty wavered. "Tell me what you're doing here?"

Snape chuckled. "I was getting repayment for six years of enduring his face." A cruel tone easily came to his voice. "So reminiscent of his father's. How did you get here so quickly?" he asked nonchalantly.

"A ward. I don't want anyone else touching _my_ prize."

"I see." For a tense moment they locked gazes, their wands trained on the other. _Not yet._ "If you won't allow me one moment of revenge…" He left it hanging, waiting her response. She shook her head. "…then I'll take my leave."

He swept from the room without a further word. As he left, he saw two of the junior Death Eaters lurking in the shadows of the basement. He was now glad not to have fought her. He would try again tomorrow, while she was torturing him. Then she would be alone.

* * *

**a/n::**Still going strong here on updates. I caught a few grammatical errors, but I know I missed one or two. I had to reword a lot of this chapter, the original was clunky, not sure if this is any better. As usual, criticisms are always welcome, actually wondering what people thought of the torture scene; it wasn't hard to write, but I feel its not quite great. Meh. Thx for reading, the response to this story has been heartening.

**EDIT 1:**Went through and fixed a few typos that were pointed out. Captain Shoulah pointed out the chapters aren't that long, so proof-reading shouldn't take too much time. hehe. I do proof-read and catch a lot of them, but I find it difficult to detach myself enough while reading to catch them all. So, I say again, see anything wrong, point it out and it will be corrected. Thx C. Shoulah for those. Also, for those not liking the dark aspects, it doesn't get any prettier after this. Thx again for reading.

-byl, out.


	4. Chapter 4: Her Bitch

Still on time.

**The Lies that Bind**

**Chapter 4: Her Bitch**

"It's more with a slashing motion, dear."

Daphne nodded and adjusted her wand. "_Silis_!" she intoned, slashing.

Another thin wound opened on Harry's chest; another rivulet of blood ran down his body. He grunted in pain.

He was currently pinned to the wall with a spell; his arms were splayed out to each side. He wore only tattered jeans. Inelegant slices decorated his upper body, more, half-healed and swollen, lined his left arm. They varied in size and length, speaking of their originator's inexperience.

"Good, good!" Bella encouraged her goddaughter. "Your aim is getting much better."

Daphne beamed at the praise, took aim, and fired another. This time her mark was off and a red line appeared across Harry's neck. A flood of warm liquid poured from the wound, running down his pale chest and drenching his trousers. Eyes focused through panic, he worked his mouth, desperately trying to call for help.

Bellatrix responded quickly, drawing her wand's across the wound, healing it. "That's the second time you hit a major vein. You must be precise or it could cost him his life. Most times, that's not bad, but with someone important you have to be careful."

Harry took a deep breath, his relief palpable.

"I'm sorry, godmother." Daphne lowered her head, ashamed. "I'll try to focus more."

"See that you do!" Bellatrix said severely. "Now I want to try—" She was interrupted by the door opening, bringing bright light to the dismal room.

From the hallway emerged Snape. Bellatrix whirled on him, her wand poised. "Back again?" She arched a brow.

Snape looked to the young teen then back to Bellatrix. "May I have a word with you alone, Bella? It involves Draco."

Bellatrix huffed but acquiesced. "Make it quick, Severus."

As they left, Bellatrix shut the door behind her, leaving Harry and Daphne alone. The latter looked to her ex-boyfriend's hanging form, admiring her handiwork. Noticing the great amount of spilled blood she retrieved a blood-replenishing potion from the corner. "Don't want our victim to die of blood loss while you practice." Daphne remembered Bellatrix's sage advice as she rummaged through the satchel.

Potion retrieved she approached her practice-victim. Daphne held his head up. She emptied the bottle into his mouth, invoking a cough when he could swallow no more. The effects were immediate as his eyes focused, having lulled since his brush with death. "You looked a little pale, so I thought I'd help you out." She explained.

"Thanks." He managed with a strained voice. Then his dulled senses recalled what the woman in front of him had done. "Why?"

She took a step back. "Why, what?" she asked flippantly.

Harry cleared his throat. "Why did you do it? I thought…I thought…"

Her smile returned. "Why did I betray you?" She laughed. "After all this you still don't know why?"

He looked away. It was difficult to concentrate through the haze of fire coming from his chest.

Daphne raised her arm and her robe's sleeve slid back to reveal the Dark Mark. "This is why." She said with regal pride. "Ever since my godmother came to see me, it's what I've always wanted. And, I finally got it."

Harry took a deep breath, collecting his scattered thoughts. "Cry for me."

"What?"

"You cried once, when we…you know…"

"We fucked? Still the prude I see."

He soldiered on. "You cried. On my shoulder. How?"

"With tears?" she asked, unsure where this was going.

"Can you cry on demand?"

"No."

"Then what made you cry?"

Her smile fell and she took a step back. "It doesn't matter now."

"You once told me you felt safe in my arms. Was it true?"

The wall met her back and she could retreat no more. "No." She could not look him in the eye.

"What are you afraid of? What made you so scared that you cried? Being alone?" He asked in desperation. He was searching for anything that made their relationship significant. He hoped that there had been something between them. Some spark.

Her sudden laughter ended his last ray of hope. She composed herself quickly and walked forward, until her breath was upon his lips. Slowly and tentatively, she started kissing him. Daphne eased her head back. "That's me being unsure." She gave him a gentle peck on his lips. "That's me being chaste." Then there was passion, a carnal need fulfilled as her tongue explored his mouth. "That's me being desperate and needy." The final kiss was long and rough, her teeth kneading his lips and drawing blood. She pulled back, her teeth still holding on to lower lip, stretching it, until she smiled and freed it. "That was me being rough. Do I need to explain it further?"

He shook his head, dejected.

"Good."

In silence, they waited for Bellatrix to return.

Not much longer the door opened to reveal her godmother with smoking hair and ripped robes. Her face held a bruise that dominated the left side.

"What happened?" Daphne asked in shock, she had not heard any signs of a battle. She wondered if the door had been spelled to keep sound out.

"Snape insisted on seeing Harry. I tried to correct him, but he decided a fight was necessary." Daphne saw something angry stir in her godmother's dark eyes. "Thankfully, my banshee curse drew the Dark Lord."

Silence greeted her statement.

Bellatrix shook her head. "Where were we?"

"With _Silis, _and I just gave him a blood-replenishing potion."

"That explains why he's alert. We'll take care of that. I'll let you do a few more sessions before I pick up the pace. The summer's not too far away now."

"What about your face?" Daphne asked, worry in her tone.

Bellatrix let her gaze follow down at her nose. "Don't be so weak, child, I don't want your concern."

Admonished Daphne nodded and allowed Bellatrix to take her arm and again show her the proper slashing motion, using, Daphne thought, more force than necessary. _I'm not weak for worrying. _She told herself.

* * *

They walked up the stairs, Voldemort leading while Snape trailed behind. The silence from his master was damning. Snape was led to the Dark Lord's study, nursing a shriveled arm; he had underestimated Bellatrix's speed.

Once inside, Voldemort took a seat and with two blood-red eyes stared at Snape. "Do I need to say anything?" he asked, death hovering in his voice.

Snape shook his head, knowing his future was uncertain. He prayed his mission to kill Dumbledore outweighed the Dark Lord's anger.

Voldemort waved his wand and Snape was thrown from his feet, hitting the wall with jarring impact. He did not fall but stayed there, suspended by some magical weight pressing against him. He opened his mouth to speak, but the pressure increased and he wheezed in pain.

"I will not have my highest lieutenants battling!"

The pressure became too much and Snape was fighting for consciousness.

"I don't need your reasons for doing what you did Snape." Voldemort said, his tone becoming reasonable. "I understand hate all too well." The pressure was lessoning and Snape gasped with relief. "Like you, I have given Bella an important task, and I will not have anyone interfering with it!" His tone became harsh and Snape's vision blurred from the pain as the pressured renewed. He tried to articulate some response, but no air could enter his compressed lungs.

Voldemort slashed belatedly with his wand, canceling the spell and dropping Snape to the ground, a heap of black robes and coughing fits. "Return to Hogwarts and _don't_ come back until Dumbledore is dead." Voldemort spoke with a finality that drove the weakened professor from the room, crawling and sputtering.

Outside the room, Snape sat on the wood paneled floor, leaning against the wall, panting. He had barely survived with his life. He remembered the look in his lord's eyes and the cold tone of his voice. Signs he had seen dozens of times in the past; precursors to death. With shaking hands, he pulled his wand out and cast a few spells on his arm and body. Temporary aids until he could seek aid from Madam Pomfrey.

He stood and tried his best to collect himself. As he made his way to the mansion's exit his thoughts dwelt on his failures. He knew for certain he had been Potter's last hope for rescue, save Dumbledore himself showing up. Of course, the Dark Lord would have contingencies against that, and he would never learn of the boy's next prison.

It was baffling, though, that Albus was not worried about Potter's death, but more worried about his mental state? Was he not worried that Voldemort could kill the boy at any time? He pushed that question aside, knowing it, like others, were ones he could never answer.

He left the mansion and was greeted with the cool air of spring. Above, the moon shown bright, casting its light onto the splendor of the Malfoy grounds. Snape walked passed all of it, oblivious to its opulent beauty. Upon exiting the grounds, he raised his wand and muttered, "I'm sorry, Lily."

Without a sound he apparated away, abandoning Harry Potter to his fate.

* * *

In the dark of the cell time held no sway over Harry Potter because, to him, it did not matter. All that mattered in his secluded life was Bellatrix, Daphne, and the pain they brought him. At first the sessions were barely tolerable while Daphne refined her skill upon his body. However, slowly she was phased to the background and Bellatrix stepped forward, her brand of agony making Daphne's seem sweet in comparison.

He could not recall all the travesties she had worked against his body, but a few of the more inventive ones were carved into his psyche. Broken bones, ruptured organs, and acid that slowly ate away his skin—to name a few. Of screaming into a cloth covering his head, while something unknown gnawed upon his feet. The terror of a broken spine while a hundred rats swarmed upon him, biting and chewing. Each time she would repair the damage, and tell him how good he had been. For each time she would ask him to do something, knowing he would balk her as long he could. At first it was just to scream, but that eventually came too easily to his lips.

Next she asked him to beg. To beg her to stop. This too, with time, came easily to his lips. Sometimes she would stop, bend down, and kiss him, telling him how proud she was. Often, though, she would continue despite his wails and pleas.

In the last session, bruised, humiliated, and clad only in the remnants of his pants, he began begging even before she worked her magic on him. The delighted look upon her face terrified him. She had turned to her ward and spoke. "You see that, dear? That wild look? The avoidance of pain, seeking to ingratiate himself to me? It is the sign I have been looking for." She had paused. "I will give him credit though, he is much stronger than most."

Without explanation, they left, leaving him relieved and confused.

It was the next day they returned and Bella had in hand a collar. His eyes would not leave it as she bent down and spoke with him. "This time Harry, I have only one thing to ask of you." She spoke slowly and carefully. "I want you to beg me to kill you."

Two wild green eyes looked into her reasonable dark ones, terrified of saying it and terrified of not. It was a horrible choice to choose from. Death or pain. Would death really be so bad?

She smiled. "And, I want you to mean it."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she waved her wand over his mouth. Panicked, he tried shouting, but no sound left his lips.

"Now, now, Harry; it's too early to say them. I'll let you know when I'm ready to listen." With that she went to work.

The session lasted an eternity for him, waves of unbroken terror and pain washing through his emaciated frame. At one point, he recalled floating away from it all to a corner of his mind where he could feel nothing. That bastion of peace did not last long. Pain brought him back to reality, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not return to that peace. Bellatrix would not let him. She cast a fiery whip that wrapped around his neck, the smoking, burnt aroma of his skin kept his mind grounded.

Hot knives pierced his skin and Bellatrix's voice haunted his mind. Pins prickled his intestines and acid ran raw down his throat. Throughout it all, he constantly heard Bellatrix's voice saying how much easier death would be. How much simpler it would feel.

Through one break he heard her talking with Daphne. "The trick with pain, dear, is to trick the body. Make it feel it a hundred different ways, or at least make him think it; the advantages of magic and all. Sometimes, though, it's good to use actual means. Like that fire whip earlier. It leaves real damage, but that can be healed."

Then it started again and the words were forgotten in a haze. He heard the word _crucio_ and what he had felt until that point was a breeze in comparison. The pain was centralized in his body, then it spread through his blood, then encompassed his entire being. It ended abruptly, right before Harry returned to that peaceful place.

Bellatrix's face came into view, blurry and indistinct. "I'm ready, Harry, are you?"

It took him a moment to find his voice, then another to form the words. "Please," he whispered, "kill me."

"A little louder." Bellatrix's voice seemed giddy.

"Please, kill me." Harry's voice was louder and more insistent.

"Do what?" She giggled.

"Kill me!" He yelled, desperate for this hell to have an ending.

She smiled proudly at him. "No."

Hope gave way to horror. Bellatrix brought out the collar, leaned down, and fastened it around his neck. She then kissed his forehead and petted his sweaty hair. "I want you to know, Harry, that I'm proud of you and that you've been a very good-boy." She vanished the remains of his pants before collecting Daphne and leaving, her voice trailing as the door shut. "You see how it is done? Just a little patience and control is all it takes. Now, I want…"

Naked, Harry crawled to the corner and wept. He fingered the collar around his neck, feeling the leather and metal studs decorating it. "…a very good-boy." Bellatrix's parting words were burned into his mind, sparking anger. Yet, the fear of pain chased it away, melting what resolve had built. Was this what Harry Potter had been reduced to? Tears and fears?

Yes.

He fingered the collar and a small chuckle erupted from his mouth. It was an odd sensation when combined with his tears.

He was now her pet. He wiped a few stray tears from his eyes and looked deep into the darkness. He barked twice. He heard a faint echo in the empty room. It made him laugh. Everything made perfect sense now. Bellatrix Lestrange had not been hurting him just to hurt him; she had been slowly training him to become her pet. It explained her loving tone of voice while she whipped him, and her proud kisses.

He smiled and barked a few more times. He felt his cold skin and knew why he was not allowed clothing; pets did not where them. He wondered what tricks she would teach him. He could already do the things a dog did: rollover, speak, shake, sit, lay down. He practiced them to be make sure he could. A few sores throughout his person made him hurt, but that pain was only a minor inconvenience, nothing compared to what he had endured.

There was another trick he wanted to practice, playing dead. He fell to the floor and slowed his breathing, raising his legs and arms in the air.

He was dead.

A glimpse of sanity returned when he realized the one thing she had made him beg for had not been granted. A rage consumed him as he threw himself against the door, savage and angry. A wild animal unleashed. He pounded and kicked and swore at the door, growling when words could not express how he felt.

He began pacing the room, impatient energy yearning to be released. The bitch had made him beg for death. He had been a good pet and did what she wanted, but she had denied him. She had not given it to him. He deserved it! He had earned the right to die!

Again, he attacked the door with feral sounds, until the adrenaline left his weakened body and he fell to the ground, thinking how unfair he had been treated. That Bellatrix was a horrible owner. In the silence, he looked back at how he had acted and laughed, until tears streamed down his face. He wondered what tomorrow would bring. More pain? Did it matter?

He was a bad pet and she was a bad owner. Those were the two truths that he now clung to, and in the morning he would act appropriately.

* * *

The morning came with bright light from the hall and Bella walking in with a confident swagger. Behind her, following, was Daphne. "Good morning my sweet little boy." Bellatrix sang, giving Harry a smile.

Harry returned her smile with one of his own. That made her nervous.

"Are you ready to beg for death again?" she asked raising her wand and pointing it at him.

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter, you won't give it me."

Her sunny disposition fell away and anger clouded her judgment. "I was proud of you, but now I'm going to have to punish you."

He smiled and began to bark. Bellatrix took a step back and shared a stunned expression with Daphne. "See," Harry said, "I can be a good pet." His expression became one of disappointment. "You're just not a very good owner." Midway through his statement, he smiled, and as he finished, he began to laugh.

Bellatrix recovered from her shock and brandished her wand, making a slashing motion with it. Harry was knocked against the wall. The sound of his skull cracking against the wall filled the room. He grunted and shook his head to clear it. "See, I told you. I told you, you weren't a good owner." He chuckled, much to her annoyance.

"What's wrong with him?" Daphne asked.

Bellatrix gave her student a testy look. "It sometimes happens that the victim will go mad to escape the horror of their predicament. Harry has done just that. He thinks he is a dog."

Harry barked in confirmation. Daphne looked to the naked boy in front of her with confused eyes; it made very little sense to her. "Do you know how to fix it?"

"Oh, yes, I know how to fix it," she said through gritted teeth. "Remind him of his reality." With three quick words and a single flourish she had Harry displayed in the air, with his limbs wide and his back exposed to her. He laughed and barked, interspersing between the two as he saw fit.

Bellatrix's left eye twitched and she flicked her wand. A green light, akin to a whip, sprouted from the tip of her wand, falling to the floor, limp. A feral grin spread across her face as she raised her wand and struck Harry across the back with it. It landed and Harry gasped in shock, though there was no mark to mar his skin. Bellatrix whipped him again, eliciting another cry and gasp. Bellatrix waited a moment, listening to Harry's heavy breathing. When no bark or laugh came she turned to Daphne. "You see, alone they can imagine the pain is not there and retreat to their fantasy world. When reminded of the pain, their retreat shatters."

Harry barked then laughed.

Daphne took a step back at the sudden fire burning in her godmother's eyes. Her control of the situation was waning. "Don't bark!" She hollered, using her magic-whip upon his back numerous times. "You are _not_ a dog!" Harry disagreed, showing her she was wrong, inducing more uncontrolled rage.

Bellatrix tried once more, speaking through clenched teeth; every syllable uttered was punctuated by her striking his back. "I, said, don't, bark!" To mock her, he barked at each strike.

She stopped and let the magic whip rest on the floor. Her breathing was heavy as she tried to regain control of herself. Unaware, her wand hand was trembling, making the green whip twitch with impatience.

Harry turned his sweat-covered face to look her in the eye. She tensed waiting for his bark. He laughed instead, the mirth causing his shoulders to shake. Her green light of the whip shifted to red. With abandon she began to whip him, angry red marks being left behind wherever the light touched. His broken laughter and sporadic barks spurred her to new heights of hysteria, and she allowed it to fuel her motions. Until, the vicious cycle ended with him unconscious and his back a raw, bloody mess.

Yet, still undeterred, she struck him again and again, a rictus snarl etched in her face. His body bounced and jerked with her movements; a dance she relished.

"Godmother." Came a hesitant voice. "Godmother!" Daphne said, more insistent.

She was ignored and Harry's body moved like a puppet, blood now seeping from his wounds.

"Bella!" Daphne cried in shock, moving forward to restrain her out-of-control teacher.

The result was not pleasant. Bella turned her uncontrollable rage onto her goddaughter. Daphne screamed in pain as Bella struck her face, leaving a red welt spanning those pale features. The teen fell back against the wall, slumping to the ground as her knees gave out. She raised her arm to fend off any more possible strikes. For a heartbeat she thought Bellatrix would snap out of her angry trance. The whip descending upon her corrected that misjudgment.

It came down again and again, shredding the sleeve of her arm as red wounds blossomed on her skin. Daphne cried in pain and tears streamed down her cheeks; never before had something hurt so much. She tried calling her godmother's name, hoping to make her stop, but it held no sway over the manic woman. Only when Bellatrix's gaze fell upon the exposed Dark Mark did sanity return.

Bellatrix lowered her wand and the red light vanished. Daphne gasped in relief, falling over onto the floor, curling into a ball, cradling her arm, weeping. The older woman looked down with disregard. She sniffed. "That's what you get for your concern." She looked to Harry's prone form and canceled the spell, his body fell to the ground with a thump. She bent down, roughly grabbed Daphne by her wounded arm, and hauled her to her feet.

The teen was dragged from the room, able to spare a glance to Harry's form before the door shut. In a haze of uncertainty she wondered if she regretted fooling Harry and betraying him to this fate. The answer was no, for it had brought her closer to her dream. A dream Daphne felt was falling apart. She could not understand how Bellatrix could turn on her, or why she had earned her godmother's disapproval.

As Daphne was pulled to the ground level of the manor, she wondered to her fate. Was this treatment what awaited her future in the Death Eater ranks? She hoped not, for this was not what her dream was supposed to become.

With fear-filled eyes she looked to her godmother and tried to stop the tears still falling from her eyes.

* * *

**a/n::** Again, I am on time. Not much to say this week save thanks for the all the encouragement. Also, the usual affair. See any problems or mistakes, point them out and I'll iron them out.

-byl, out.


	5. Chapter 5: Freedom

On time.

**The Lies that Bind**

**Chapter 5: Freedom  
**

Daphne no longer came to the sessions. Harry asked why at one point, a broken jaw had been Bellatrix's answer. She refused to heal it afterwards, saying it was better he remained silent. He did but still laughed and barked just to rile her up.

It was strange, for the pain no longer affected him like it once did; he no longer dreaded it. To him, it had become something akin to breathing. Its absence once gave him pause.

Of course, with his new cavalier attitude she was far more brutal. He went long stretches with no sustenance or water, to the point where nothing could rouse him. He had seen Voldemort soon after and the man's anger had been unending. "I told you to break him, not kill him!" Bellatrix screamed as her Dark Lord showered her with his rage.

"Bark like a dog, Bella. Show him what a good pet you are!" Harry's strange words gave the Dark Lord pause.

"I see you're close to breaking him." Sarcasm dripped from his words. "You have two months left, don't disappoint me."

He left and for the rest of the session Harry laughed as Bellatrix took out her own rage out on him. In the end, she left in a fit of frustration.

After that, he was fed enough to keep him alive, with water if he requested it. It felt good to piss again.

More sessions came and with them more unhealed injuries, along with scars as she ventured into the darker areas of magic. He was astounded by how much he was learning from her just by experiencing it! Eventually, he realized she was growing desperate because no longer was their precision to her pain, and the sessions grew wilder with each passing day. Some were a breeze and others a nightmare. When the bad sessions were upon him, he practiced something he referred to as floating. He recalled first experiencing it when it seemed death had been an option for him.

If he let his mind drift away from the pain, he found he could leave it behind. He would float in this place, sublime and happy, barking like a dog. At times, he would see himself as a big black dog, chasing a cat or defending his home from burglars. What really put a smile on his face was when he would piss on his aunt's violets.

To his misfortune, sometimes his happy thoughts would literally put a smile on his face, and Bellatrix' rage would pull him back to reality. It was quite annoying, and once he spoke his mind about it. "Do you mind? I almost got the cat." He blacked out before that session was over.

On and on it went, with Bellatrix unable to impact Harry's growing disassociation with the world. It grew harder and harder for her to bring him back to reality and his vacant stare was reminiscent of the Longbottoms' sixteen years prior.

In one session, he was floating, pretending to chase a cat, when suddenly the cat turned into a snake and slithered into a dark hole. Daunted by such a dismal thing in such a bright place, he paused outside the hole, sniffing around and barking uselessly. In the end, curiosity got the better of him and he crawled into the hole, becoming human as he did…

He stalked the halls of Hogwarts, alone. The moon hung high in the air outside a window he passed. The light crossed his face for moment, before he was shrouded in darkness once more. He passed suits of armor that raised their hands in greeting, but in return all they received was his cold indifference.

Tonight, he had a single purpose in mind. A goal he had been yearning to reach for years, ever since he first dreamt of immortality. If what Yaxley said was true, his victim would be whimpering in the girl's lavatory. He could not ask for a better opportunity.

As he drew near, he slowed his pace and withdrew his wand. After a careful swirl, he placed the tip at the crown of his head and whispered the incantation. The felt the sensation of falling water over his body, and soon he was able to see through his own hands. It was not a perfect dissolution spell, but in this darkness it would suffice.

He stepped carefully into the bathroom, where he could hear the pathetic girl's cries for attention. He smiled in anticipation, but he realized then his hands were sweaty. Anger built within, he was nervous. A human weakness he felt he should be above. If everything went accordingly, he would no longer be human. Humans could die.

He refocused himself and silently crept to where the girl was bawling. He raised his wand and whispered the incantation, a compulsion for her to remain here, glorifying in her angst. He placed a silence-charm on the sink, so the unwitting girl would not hear it open. He descended to gather his tools.

Upon entering the Chamber of Secrets, he cancelled the disillusion charm and paid homage to the greatest of the Hogwarts founders, before summoning his familiar and gathering the Diary, where bloody runes had been placed on each page. All it needed now was life.

He headed from the room, the sound of the great slithering snake echoing behind him. As he walked, he steeled himself for the task ahead. He had to do this. He _needed_ to do this.

He mounted the basilisk's back and held on as it climbed the pipes to the girl's bathroom. With a whisper the sink opened and the giant snake slithered from the opening, most of its bulk still in the cavern. It did not matter; all he needed was its eyes. He could kill the person himself, but he was unsure of his ability to do both spells at once.

He took a steadying breath and raised his wand, the incantation he needed upon his lips and the intent burning deep within his heart.

"Kill!" He hissed in parseltongue. The basilisk reared its head and moved forward, seeking the crying girl in the stall.

"Who's there?" Came a sniffling voice. "Oh my…" Were her last words in life as two yellow eyes flashed.

He was quick with his wand, the terrible sounding words tumbling from his trembling lips. There was a flash of white light. Remaining focused he pointed his wand at the diary, just as a tearing feeling came from deep within his being. The pain was excruciating, but he fought through it. Something shifted within him, manifesting around his heart and traveling through his body, down his arm, and into his wand. A brilliant blue light poured from the wand's tip, falling onto the diary where it turned a viscous black.

In a matter of seconds, it was over, and he was coated in sweat. For a long moment, he stood there fighting off a supreme since of loss. It felt like there was gaping wound somewhere in his being that would forever bleed. In time, though, it faded, leaving him feeling invigorated. The doubts, fears, and anxiety that had plagued him earlier were now a distant thing. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" He heard Myrtle's cry again and whipped his wand around, but smiled when all he saw was her ghost, holding itself in a ball on the floor, weeping.

Looking away, he gave himself a shake and went to a mirror. There he saw a pale teen of handsome features, combed hair, and cold dark eyes. There was something new stirring in those eyes, something akin to blood. A pleasing smile bloomed on the face of Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Harry emerged from that dark corner in a rush, fear fueling his mind. He had forgotten what it was like to fear, to know terror. He quickly exited the bright place that had sustained him all this time only to find another dark place greeting him in the real world; a dank cell with no light and an aching body.

Reality was a cruel mistress.

Harry found himself lying upon the stone floor, aches registering up and down his body. His chest had red lines racing down it and his legs were nothing but twigs decorated with bruises. It appeared Bellatrix had again left in a huff while he was occupied in that other place. The other place he could be a dog and frolic where he chose, without the reminders of this horrible life. Now, though, living life normally, albeit sadistically through Voldemort's memory, had given him a reminder of a world without pain. What it could be like outside these four walls.

Something was different this time. Hope bloomed in his eyes as he realized just what lay at his disposal. Memories. Information he could access whenever he chose. Somewhere buried in Voldemort's dark mind had to be something that would help him escape. All he had to do was find it. He began chuckling when he realized it would not be that simple and that he would still have to endure Bellatrix.

"Pish posh." He said; if he had put up with her torture this long, a little bit longer would be an easy feat for him.

Then it dawned on him, like a burst of sunlight after a thunderstorm. He would no longer have to be a dog! He began to laugh uncontrollably at the prospect, the movement causing his jaw to ache, but he did not care. All he cared about was how funny it was to no longer be someone's pet.

* * *

For days, he explored the depths of madness that Voldemort had descended to, and each trip further desensitized him. With time, he learned that the connection was growing stronger and that he could recall memories while outside that dark place in his mind. After countless hours of searching, a plan began to form in his mind. A plan of escape and a plan of death. Revenge burned in his mind in the form of Bellatrix's helpless screaming. The thought graced his dreams each night. By day she cursed him with pain and by night he cursed her with death.

The key to escaping lay in retrieving Bellatrix's wand and obtaining a potion that would restore his body. There were none known potions that could do that permanently, but there were some that could do it temporarily. If his trips through Voldemort's mind proved true there was one lying in Lucius' study. He only needed to summon it here.

Without a wand it would be difficult, but it was feasible.

He waited days for an opportunity to present itself, waiting for a light session. In the interim, he further explored Tom's mind.

Finally, the opportunity came when Bellatrix left in a rush, a summons had come from her Dark Lord. Harry sat heavily upon the floor, trying to control his laughter. He shook his head and managed, but a smile still played across his lips.

He focused upon the image of the potion laying on the shelf, green in color and rank in smell. He then focused on the space before him. He drew a breath and rallied his magic, trying to merge the two spaces. Seconds later there was a pop and Harry instantly felt drained. He crashed to the floor, almost knocking the potion over.

For a long time he just stared at, longing to down it, but he knew he had a single chance and he would need to wait until Bellatrix would visit him in the morning. He rallied his remaining strength and placed the potion, thankfully it was stoppered, into his shitting hole. With heavy eyelids he drifted off to sleep.

The next morning came and Bellatrix woke him up with a hot brand to his legs. He giggled. "That tickles," he said, coming to his senses.

That session did not go well.

It was three days later that Harry had enough strength to wake before Bellatrix came to him. By then, he had learned how easy it was to dip into Voldemort's mind for whatever he wanted, recalling knowledge with ease. He had even begun to hear the man's thoughts.

He crawled over to the shitting hole and reached in to retrieve the potion. He was thankful Bellatrix's banishing spell had only gotten rid of the shit and piss, as was the intent behind the spell. He had some trouble pulling the stopper off, but he succeeded in the end. "To freedom." He raised it in a toast with a smile upon his face.

He downed it in one go and made a horrible face; it tasted terrible. The affects, though, were immediate.

Strength flowed into every cell of his body. He instantly became alert and ready, with Voldemort's impressive array of magic at his beck and call. He stood quickly and did a dance, relishing in the ability to move without aches and pains. "Come to me, bitch, I'm no longer your pet." He tried to stop the chuckle from leaving his lips but failed.

In the dark he waited.

The door opened and she strolled in, wand poised. Harry rushed her, grabbing her wand-hand and pulling her into the cell. Bellatrix was surprised but quick to recover. A red light shot from her wand, but it struck the wall. Harry struck out with his foot, tripping her and purposefully losing his own balance.

They fell in a tumble, Bellatrix not expecting it and Harry prepared for it. He wrenched the wand from her hand and turned its tip upon her. Anger filled her eyes, but his reflexes were faster than her own. Black wires sprang to life around her, constricting her movements. She cried out and struggled, but they only tightened further.

Harry carefully found his feet and tossed the wand from hand to hand, reveling in feeling one again. He flicked the wand and cast a switching spell. Bellatrix was now naked on the floor with a collar around her neck and the wires now cutting into her skin. He was dressed in jewelry and black robes. With a few spells, he adjusted the robes and banished the excess. It was good to be casting again, even if it felt odd. Like working with a thick pair of woolen gloves on. No matter. His freedom was now all but guaranteed.

He sidled over to Bellatrix and squatted down, his breath an inch from her ear.

"I'm going to kill you, Potter! I'm going to kill you!" She screamed, frothing at the mouth, disregarding the pain of the constricting wires.

"No you won't, Bella. And as much as I would _love_ to make your death long and painful. I don't have the time. The potion wears off in an hour and by then I have to be on my merry way. Don't worry, though, I'm going to leave you a guest. He'll take good care of you."

Harry went to the wall and concentrated. He tapped it in numerous locations until a large, humanoid shape had been etched in his mind. He began the incantation and the wall began to shake and shudder with dust and pebbles falling from it until a large golem, standing ten feet high with bulging appendages, emerged. Harry admired his handiwork.

"This way." He gestured with his hand and the golem followed, looming over Bellatrix, who eyed the monstrosity with some wariness. Her eyes widened at the massive phallic rock that hung from between its legs. Fear finally seeped through her rage. Harry smiled. "I see you noticed my present for you."

She snarled at him, baring her teeth. "Don't you dare!"

He smiled wickedly. "Good-bye, Bella. Our time together has been enlightening." He bent down and patted her bum. She tried to kick him, but the wires stopped her.

He paused on the threshold of the cell and turned back, addressing the golem. "Begin." He gestured with his wand and the golem took Bellatrix into its thick arms.

"No…no…oh Merlin, no!" Were her final screams as Harry shut the door. He wondered how long she would last. In the end, it did not matter; by the time his magic on the golem wore off she would be nothing but a trodden, bloody mess.

With Voldemort's memories and experiences flitting through Harry's mind, he walked with confidence, blasting away any Death Eater he happened to meet in the manor's halls. A few cried in alarm but could not bring their wands to the Dark Mark in time. Being stuck to the wall by a storm of daggers tends to stop that from happening. In his mind, Harry held few illusions to tackling the Dark Lord in his present state, considering he had less than an hour physical strength. He had entertained the thought for a few fleeting seconds, but practicality won over.

Yet, before he left he needed his wand. Tapping into the Dark Lord's memories told him he could find it in an enchanted box in Lucius' desk. That is where he set his destination. As he navigated through the parlor he heard a gasp. He twirled and shot out a stunning spell, but his target dodged. Anger swept through Harry like a fire when he saw the man pressing the tip of his wand to his mark, mouthing his master's name.

The teen pressed his wand to his arm and squeezed his hand, as if he were gripping a throat. Meters away the figure dropped his wand as he tried to stop the invisible force from choking him. With disdain upon his lips Harry jerked his hand to the left and sent the hapless man flying through the wall. Harry now had even less time to retrieve his wand.

With a few incantations, he was running through the parlor, a blur to everyone's eyes. He exited and followed the path to the study where he flew through the door. He heard someone cuss, but ignored them. He had to get out of here.

Approaching the desk, he rummaged through the drawers and removed an elongated box. With a wave of his wand and muttered word, he countered the curse and opened it. Before snatching it, though he yearned to, he searched through Voldemort's mind once more to double check for any curses on the wand itself. None.

Triumphantly, he removed his wand and felt a soft smile play across his lips. Sparks shot from its tip, lighting the room in red; the wand was happy to be reunited with its owner.

_Vevicus._ The word crawled across Harry's mind and he looked around in confusion. Where had it come from? Then a tiny black dot moved slowly into the room. He remembered the word and what the spell could do. "Shit," he whispered, diving behind the desk, knowing it would be no protection from the spell. He hastily cast a shield charm, hoping it would dampen the effects.

The room was suddenly bathed in black light before reality distorted and everything in there was sucked into the point of magic then shot back out. Harry was thrown against the wall, the desk soon following him. His shield protected him from the desk, but he was shaken and bruised from impacting the wall. In the confusion, he had lost Bellatrix's wand, but managed to hold on to his own.

With a crash, he fell to the floor, coughing. He looked up to find Voldemort strolling into the room, the wreckage of books, papers, chairs, and pieces of carpet moving out of his way as he walked. "Hi, Tom." Harry gave him his best smile.

Voldemort did not share his mirth. His wand was by his side, the tip glowing a haunting green. As the two stared at each other, red to green, neither moved. Both were afraid of acting. Harry unsure if he could conquer his foe, even with his acquired knowledge, and Voldemort unsure what killing Harry Potter would do to himself, for he had come to understand their bond.

Harry dared to stand. Voldemort's eyes narrowed as he recognized Harry's original wand. "Hoping to escape?" he asked.

"Yeah, that was the plan. I hate long good-byes."

"I see."

_Fuck it._ Harry cast a quick disarming spell, not really expecting it to land. He threw himself to the left, barely dodging a green light. He rolled and cast a few jinxes, relying on his Hogwarts lessons. The spells struck the Dark Lord's black robes with no effect. "_Avada Kedavra!_" Another jet of green sought Harry's life, who froze for a second before throwing himself backwards.

He landed in a heap amid the wreckage, the desk to his left. The green spell sailed over him. Looking up, he saw the Dark Lord again readying another spell. "_Locomotor_!" Harry cried desperately, relying more on his own memories in the heat of the moment. His intent was upon everything on the ground.

Instantly, dozens of pieces of furniture and books went into the air, swirling around the Dark Lord like a vortex. Another killing curse was launched, but struck a scroll in the air. It caught fire and burned to ashes within seconds. Harry found the wreckage he was laying on jumping to join their brethren in the air. He obliged it by gaining his feet and skirting around the edges of the room, hoping to reach the doorway.

Voldemort tried another two killing curses, both failed to find their target.

Harry reached the doorway when, consumed by rage, Voldemort lifted his arms into the air. The swirling debris stopped moving and was launched in Harry's direction.

The teen jumped through the door. Spinning around in the air he delved into Voldemort's memories and cast a blocking spell on the doorway. A few objects made it through, but Harry hit the ground and they flew over him. The rest could be seen crowding the door, struggling to get out. The teen gained his feet and turned, but another word crawled across his psyche. _Expulso_. "Shit." he whispered before the debris exploded outward from the doorway, taking most of the wall with it.

The shockwave knocked Harry from his feet and he went gliding across the tile floor, stopping at the end of the hallway. The remnants of the room and wall were strewn across the floor. Regaining his senses his wand touched the floor and he whispered, "_Procellus._" The tile floor rippled for a moment before rising like a hill. Harry directed his wand forward and, like a rolling wave, sent it crashing after Voldemort, who was now marching from the ruined study. With a wave Voldemort halted the spell. "_Incuros!"_ Harry cried desperately.

The tiles in the hallway shook before breaking loose from the mortar and attacking Voldemort. Harry wasted no further time on the ground. He scrambled to his feet and fled.

He fled to the parlor before a sonic boom erupted. A gust of smoke soon followed. Harry did not bother looking back.

_Vevicus_. Harry snarled and turned around, his wand flashing. The small black mote entered the room, but was batted away by Harry's will, sent back whence it came. There was a whoosh of air. Then Voldemort's body went sailing from the hallway, passed Harry, and struck the far wall. It fell to the ground in a heap.

It was in that moment Harry finally stopped thinking himself inferior to the Dark Lord. Seeing the man thrown around did wonders for his confidence. It was also then he realized that he could hear, in his mind, the Dark Lord's spells before he cast them. Emboldened, he waited for Voldemort to rise.

The older man gained his feet and, seeing his opponent's stance, hesitated.

Harry thought back to last year and the fight between Voldemort and Dumbledore, how the Headmaster had used roundabout means to defeat him, while Voldemort was more direct. Dumbledore had used knowledge of his opponent to outsmart and anticipate the Dark Lord's actions. Harry now possessed such foreknowledge. He grinned. "Ready to stop fooling around, Tom?"

Voldemort bristled. "You don't stand a chance against me, Potter."

Harry burst into laughter, and it took him a moment to stop. "So you hitting the wall was part of your master plan?"

The Dark Lord's red eyes narrowed. "Lucky is what you have been, nothing more." He glanced significantly around. "There's nowhere to run now."

Harry looked around and noted several objects, ornate wooden chairs and coffee tables, he could use. _Avada Kedavra. _Harry jerked his sight back to Voldemort and cursed his own stupidity. He waved his wand and summoned a chair to absorb the spell. It barely got there in time. He would need to react faster if he were to anticipate the man's spells, concentrate more on the connection between them. The connection Voldemort feared after the pain it had caused him in the Ministry's Atrium last year.

Remembering Dumbledore's plan last year, Harry enchanted the chairs and table in the room to circle the edges, waiting to come between him and one of Voldemort's spells. The Dark Lord recalled the strategy as well. He waved his wand in a circle above him and three fiery bats flew out. Harry sighed, knowing what the bats would do.

He waited, his focus mainly on the man before him. The fiendfyre consumed his defenses then morphed into dragons and sought him. Harry heard the killing curse in Voldemort's mind and reacted appropriately. He flung out his wand and waved it, his mind intent on the ground around him and in front of him. With seconds to spare a giant stone golem burst through the carpet, blocking the killing curse with its bulk. Around Harry three walls of stone jutted upward. When the fiendfyre tried to go over them they shifted their bulk higher and fell upon the flames, smothering them.

Using a derivative of _locomotor_ Harry directed his golem against the Dark Lord. Voldemort stood his ground and summoned a magical shield when the golem struck him with a fist. The shield deflected it, and Voldemort hit the golem with his wand. _Finite Incantatem_. Harry anticipated the spell and recast his own before the golem broke apart.

Voldemort was shocked for a second, but quickly got his shield up again. With his heartbeat quickening, Harry angled himself to where he could see Voldemort being driven back by the golem. He could, in his mind, hear Voldemort's thoughts as he raced to find a way to stop it. Harry countered his levitating attempt and a protego in front of the golem reflected the cutting curse back at Voldemort.

Voldemort's back hit the wall and he suddenly twirled in the air, evaporating like smoke. Harry knew where he would reappear. He fired off a quick _crucio,_ hoping to surprise his foe. A shield blocked it when Voldemort appeared near the hallway leading to the wrecked study. Harry sent his golem to attack again, but the ground opened up and swallowed the giant whole. Harry dodged another killing curse and summoned a ball to intercept another.

A lull fell in the battle and the two opponents began circling one another. Harry's spells were doing nothing for him while Voldemort's tactics were being countered too often. "Growing tired, Potter?" Voldemort asked.

"Not really." Harry spoke nonchalantly, but his confidence from earlier was waning. He could hear the Dark Lord's next spell, but sometimes he was too slow to react. The reason why Voldemort was able to apparate from his golem's assault. "I'm just getting warmed up. How about you?"

His foe grunted at the joke. _It's time to teach the boy the meaning of magic._

Fear raced down Harry's back as he felt the spells coming to the forefront of the Dark Lord's mind. Curses and spells that had few counters. None as absolute and lethal as the killing curse. Time froze and stretched and then both were moving their wands, calling upon one man's experience to kill each other.

Forethought left Harry's mind as he was caught between reacting and acting. A red light the color blood oozed towards him across the ground, the carpet decaying where the light touched. Harry used a sharpened bludgeoning spell against Voldemort and side stepped the red light, causing it fall into a hastily created hole. He dodged a blue light that hit the ceiling and caused it to rain poisoned-tipped arrows. Harry redirected them at Voldemort, who directed them against the wall. Harry struck back with transfiguring the air around Voldemort to become poisonous. Voldemort only laughed and funneled it towards Harry, who placed a breathing charm around his mouth to survive it.

Back and forth they battled, directing and redirecting their spells against the other. A series of blasting spells from Harry took out the outside wall; while Voldemort's overzealous fiendfyre appeared again. They ran rampant through the manor after Harry wrested control of them.

A large tree outside came to life and smashed into Harry with its branches. He turned it into feathers and summoned a wind to blow them away. He countered with a dozen black hands emerging from the ground around Voldemort, their touch upon his robes causing them to smoke, and their touch upon his flesh causing it to burn.

A miniscule dart took out Harry's left eye, going through his glasses. With blood trailing from the socket, he tried to behead his opponent. He instead got Voldemort's hand.

Their fight spilled out into the grounds with Harry desperately trying to read his opponent's mind and quickly counter the spells. It took time before he could find a medium between focusing his mind on the battle at hand and the information coming in through the connection.

It was when he began to counter and attack using a single spell that the battle turned in his favor. No longer was he dodging, conjuring, and blocking, but standing his ground and directing his spells against his opponent's defenses.

In the background, unknown to them both, the rest of the Death Eaters were under assault by members of the Order of the Phoenix. In the backdrop the manor burned and exploded as the battle took its toll upon it. Screams and yells echoed around while one statement came to Harry's ears. "Take down the ward so Dumbledore can get here!"

"How can it keep him out?" Came a shocked reply.

The break in his concentration nearly cost him, but he recovered and ignored everything else except for the enemy seeking his death.

For long minutes the chaos reigned over the area, bodies piling up as the run-off from the main battle affected those around them. The ground shook and Harry lost his footing, he had not reacted quick enough to Voldemort's last spell. Cracks appeared everywhere as the man's desperate magic manifested. "You can't defeat me, Harry Potter!" He raged, making great arcs with his wand, the earth swaying to his beat. "I'm the greatest Dark Lord to ever live!"

Harry felt like giggling; Voldemort had finally lost it. He tried to gain his feet, but the tumbling earth heaved and swayed. Nearby, he heard the cry of someone falling into a crack. Harry focused on his thoughts, but the Dark's Lord's mind was erratic. Harry launched a few spells, but giant walls came up to absorb them. Harry tried transfiguring the ground, but Voldemort's control seemed to supersede his own.

He had to end this. His spells could not reach him, and Voldemort was using the ground to keep him off balance; he needed to get in close. A feral grin came to his lips. He waved his wand and enchanting his shoes with a leaping charm. He crouched low and waited for an opportune moment. The ground went low, then high. At the apex Harry leaped forward, praying his aim was true.

A giant wall came up and he slashed with his wand. _Sectumsempra_. The wall fell away and he sailed over, landing a hundred feet from his foe. Voldemort hissed at him. Giant hands went to grasp Harry, the madman's thoughts directing them to crush the spry teen. Harry leaped again and slashed with his wand. One hand fell apart while he flew through another's grip.

His maneuver ended when he tackled the Dark Lord. The two of them tumbled amid the broken ground. Voldemort lost the grip on his wand, but Harry maintained his. The ground quieted and the battle-weary wizards and witches collected themselves. All saw a tired teen aiming his wand at the face of a crazed man.

Voldemort screamed in rage and flung Harry from his body wandlessly. Harry landed meters away and slid to a stop. Voldemort leaped to his feet and gestured with his pale hand, summoning his wand. Harry saw his chance and brandished his own. "_Avada Kedavra_!" He shouted, putting into the spell every ounce of hatred he felt towards the man that had tossed him to Bellatrix.

The Dark Lord regained his wand as the green light overcame him. The light smothered his body and he gave a strangled cry of loss before he dissolved into shadow. Without form, the remnant of a man drifted away, its final howl of anguish unheard.

Below it, panting, Harry Potter stood on shaking legs, disbelief shown in his face. It was over. It was finally over. No longer was he Daphne's pet, used for practice. No longer was he Bellatrix's bitch, used as release for her anger. No longer was his life bound to Voldemort. He was free. Finally, free!

A small grin grew on his lips, and then became a manic smile. Soon he was laughing and found that he did not want to stop. It felt so good to be free!

Around him the order members gathered, wary of approaching the youth. Some called his name, but got no response from the jubilant teen. It was only with the coming of Dumbledore did their fears come to rest. With one wave of his hand, the Headmaster put the Chosen-One to sleep. It was with a frown he and his friends left the remains of Malfoy Manor.

* * *

**a/n:: **Well here is the next chapter. The usual applies, anything remiss or out of place, leave a comment and I'll see to fixing it. Anyone's thoughts on the final moments against Voldemort would be nice. I'm not quite sure if I managed to make that last part enjoyable. Voldemort controlling the ground like that reeks of high-fantasy and not HP magic, but I'm it was convincing. Thx goes to all who have read and enjoyed.

**EDIT: **Have fixed several errors pointed out by Captain Shoulah. My regards to you.

-byl, out.


	6. Chapter 6: Turning the Tables

Still got it.

**The Lies that Bind**

**Chapter 6: Turning the tables.**

The response to the Dark Lord's death was tremendous in the Wizarding World. Like seventeen years prior, their celebrations were not going unnoticed by the muggles of the land. In droves, the wizards took to the streets, most drunk on happiness and spirits. Within the Ministry of Magic there was utter confusion as they tried to discern the imperiused from the true maligners. In the chaos the Death Eaters, that survived the final confrontation, fled and hid.

Rufus Scrimgeour, along with most of the Wizarding World, was clamoring to speak with Harry Potter, going so far as to try and enter Hogwarts uninvited. With Albus Dumbledore still Headmaster none were successful. A few reporters from the various newspapers stooped to bribing students to get word from the Chosen-one. Their efforts were for naught since Dumbledore would allow none but a select few to see the young man.

"Young Mister Potter has been through a very traumatic experience; being kept prisoner by the Dark Lord for three months can do that. He needs time to recover. When he is well-enough, I assure you, he will speak to whomever he wants." Were the Headmaster's last words on the matter.

It was presently one week following the fall of the Voldemort and Madam Pomfrey was walking the halls of the school. As she passed a window she saw the sun shining high in the sky, its rays blessing the students that were lounging on the school grounds. It made her smile, knowing their future was bright and cheery.

As she passed a few paintings, their inhabitants showered her with questions. "How's young Potter?"

"When shall he grace these fair walls again?"

"Make sure you give him toadroot for fever!"

The last was from a previous matron of Hogwarts, Pomfrey stopped and addressed her. "We've a simple spell now that will take care of fever."

The woman in the painting scoffed. "We had a spell, too, but nothing works better than a good potion."

Pomfrey pursed her lips. "There is a time and a place for a potion and curing the simple symptoms of a fever is not one of them."

The painted woman sniffed. "Potions do not rely on the concentration of the caster. A tired caster is a miscast spell."

"And stuffing too many potions down a patient's throat can cause an adverse reaction; especially, for a minor ailment." It was then Madam Pomfrey realized she had been arguing medicine with a dead woman who firmly believed hanging a child from their toes cured lethargy. With a dismissive wave to the woman, she continued her trek.

Up a flight a stairs and down a hallway lined with faded tapestries, she found a wooden door bound in iron. In front of it were a group of stone goblins armed with bows and arrows. They were chatting to one another, expletives flying from their mouths every other word. At her approach, they came to attention and drew their weapons. Their granite eyes looked to the tray floating behind her, bedecked with potions of various colors.

She stopped in front of them. "Dobby!" She called.

The house-elf greeted her with a pop and a bow. "At your service, Madam."

"Take me to see, Harry Potter, please."

His large eyes blinked slowly for a moment, waiting. She clucked her tongue. "Harry Potter is the greatest wizard in the world because he defeated You-know…"

"Ahem."

She bristled. "…because he defeated Lord Voldemort." She gave him a severe glance, but he was unaffected by it.

"Harry Potter is feeling very well, Madam, and I'm very very happy you are helping him!" He took hold of her skirt and they popped from existence, only to appear behind the iron-bound door. Poppy did not approve of the means which Dumbledore chose to protect the patient. Why on earth he trusted the annoying little bugger was beyond her, but so far the protections had proven full-proof. She had even treated a few arrow wounds from adventurous students.

She surveyed the cozy room, filled with the colors of Gryffindor and made to look like Harry's own dorm room. "It's where I feel the most at home," was his answer to where he felt the safest. As of right now, his mental state was as important as his physical state.

"Good afternoon, Harry. Are you ready for your medicine?"

He gave her a charming smile. "So long as it doesn't taste like Dementor droppings."

She shook her head, marveling at his ability to stay jovial. "I'm not sure if Dementors have bowel movements." She walked to his side and with her finger, gestured the platter to float where he lay in the bed.

"If they did this stuff would taste just like it." He eyed the various concoctions with distaste. His eyes paused on the one that was light-blue in color. "Speaking of bowel movements, why the Quick-Poop Potion? I don't have constipation."

That was one of the many signs of trouble coming from Mister Potter's. His advanced knowledge in many subjects, among them potions. Although, Snape was highly biased on Mister Potter's range of knowledge, that particular potion was too obscure for a student to know. "Because I am upping your dose of MuscloGro and it can give you constipation. Also, a nice side-effect of it makes your cell-growth more rapid." For Madam Pomfrey spells were for simple ailments, headache, fever, muscle tension, etc. Potions were best for complex issues and used best in series. The effects of potions building off others. The ability to use potions in that manner separated Madams from Matrons.

With a look of disgust on his face, she watched Harry drink every drop. He started drinking the Musclogro too quickly, and she had to tip the glass back some to slow him. She admonished him. "This one can make your heart stop if you drink it too fast."

When finished, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "I know. It just tastes awful."

"Of course." She banished the glass bottles and the platter when done. "I'm also here to inform you that the Headmaster will be with joining you before dinner, so I hope you're in a more amiable mood this time."

His face darkened too quickly for her comfort. "I can't wait."

"I'm just the messenger, honey."

In a blink, he was back to smiling. "I know, sorry if I took it out on you. Forgiven?" He proffered her his hand, which she shook.

His mood swings were another indicator that not all things were as well as he let on. Add to that his change in personality and it was no wonder Albus was worried.

They chatted for a minute or two more, her checking his vitals as they talked. In the past week, he had gained some of his frame back and his hair no longer looked dull and matted. Most of his surface wounds had been healed, albeit there were quite a few scars throughout his body. He had waved them away as insignificant. His bones had been righted, where they had been healed improperly.

He was already suffering from muscle-spasms, and she feared heart palpitations and head trauma. Two of the potions were designed to treat those ailments, until he was healthy enough on his own. She figured another week in her care and he would be ready for some time outside of the room. She had argued for hours with the Headmaster that he should be admitted to St. Mungo's, but Albus had been adamant that his mental health relied on him being here and feeling safe.

She treated him herself at first, but had been forced to consult with Snape when she did not recognize some of the spells used on the boy. Between them both, they had stabilized and treated him. When conscious, Mister Potter requested Snape stay away. He had said it while searching frantically for his wand. The Headmaster had that tucked away somewhere safe for the time being.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before she left, convinced he was stable for the time being and the potions were doing what they were supposed to. Harry waved to her once more before she was taken away by Dobby.

The smile fell from his face and he looked out the window, scowling. He _hated_ being cooped up here. He _hated_ being verbally dissected by the Headmaster every other day. He _hated_ swallowing all those potions. There were a lot of things he hated. Did he hate himself? The world?

One tired sigh later, the scowl fell from his face.

Four months ago, he had been torn between finding Draco's secret and finding Slughorn's. Now all that seemed trivial, belonging to someone else. He already knew Draco had been tasked with killing Dumbledore, a laudable trial for the young fool. Slughorn's secret had been the number of horcruxes Voldemort might have made; the answer was six. Both answers were as redundant as his life now. There was no dire need to fight the Dark Lord; he was gone, though not permanently. In time, he would hunt down and destroy the horcruxes. There was no need to finish school, not with the knowledge he had garnered from Voldemort's mind. He was drifting listlessly now, no pressures and no destinations.

Another sigh left his lips.

He lay back down and brought a hand to his head. With a wave he forced himself to sleep; it was the quickest way to pass the time. It was either that or listen to Dobby sing his praises all day. The second he got his wand back, he would thank Dumbledore personally for making Dobby his caretaker.

Dreams came and went for him, images of a laughing Bellatrix haunting him. Her visage passed, giving way to a young Daphne grinning at him, her wand lashing his backside time and time again. Daphne morphed into Bellatrix and it was her turn with the wand.

The nightmare ended abruptly as consciousness was forced on Harry. He opened his eyes and was greeted by a plain yellow ceiling.

"I see that things have not quite settled in your mind as you want some to think."

Harry jerked his head to the left. There standing, the window behind him, was Dumbledore. He gave Harry a small smile. "Good evening."

"Headmaster." Harry spoke rising into a sitting position.

"How long have you been plagued by nightmares?"

Harry looked to the far wall, unwilling to meet Dumbledore's gaze. "Since I got back, but you already knew that."

"No, but I suspected."

Harry gave a cynical laugh. "With you there's no difference. What you think happened is usually what happened." He paused and looked to the Headmaster. When he saw him about to speak he quickly asked, "When can I leave?"

"As soon as you are well."

"I feel fine."

Dumbledore favored him with an indulgent smile. "Harry, we both know that is far from the truth of the matter. Why don't you tell me how you really are?"

Harry scoffed. "That's not what you want to know."

"What do I want to know, then?"

Harry's face darkened. "You want to know why I'm not crazy. Everybody else who spent time with Bella went nutters."

"Actually, that's not what I want to know. I already knew you possessed a strong fortitude to withstand her for a time, not that long I imagined, but long enough for us to try and rescue you."

Harry burst into derisive laughter. "Yeah, because that went _really_ well, didn't it? What took so long? One too many meetings with the Order? All talking and no doing?"

Dumbledore's pleasant face fell at the venom in his ward's voice. "Do you really believe I would leave in there longer than I could?"

The young man met the older man's pale blue eyes. "Yes."

Dumbledore pondered for a moment before speaking. "Harry, you speak with harsh tones about things a _child_ has very little knowledge of." Once done, Dumbledore watched and waited for a reaction.

Harry was incredulous. "Child?" He spat, outraged. "Child!" His face was livid. "I'm not a child anymore, not after what I've seen!" In the back of his mind, some of Voldemort's more gruesome memories surfaced. The ones he had explored while locked in that pain-ridden place.

With a soft voice, Dumbledore took a step forward. "And what exactly have you seen?"

The young man's anger deflated at what he had just revealed. He turned away. "Nothing."

"You've confirmed my worst fears, Harry." No response. "That somewhere in that mind of yours resides traces of Tom Riddle, that during your darkest hours, to escape the pain and humiliation, you receded into your mind and discovered a dark doorway." Dumbledore approached him. "I don't blame you, but you blame me."

Despite the maturity another's man's memories had granted him, Harry suddenly felt liked a child again, frightened at what happened rather than cynical. "That's one hell of a leap of logic?" His statement lacked any real sarcasm. Harry looked down to the covers, realizing then the anger he felt no longer burned within him. He knew Dumbledore had done all that he could to save him. This logic let him see the irrationality of his earlier temperament.

Dumbledore stopped by the bedside and placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. In a low voice he went on. "I knew leaving you to her was as good as a death sentence. I had no illusions of what she was capable of, but I knew, in the end, I would free you." He took a deep breath. "I also knew that no matter the damage she caused you, I could reverse it."

Shock riddled Harry's features as he tried to absorb that statement. _I could go back to what I was?_ A part of him hoped for those innocent times, while another scoffed.

"I can take it all away, Harry. All the memories gone like they were never there. You can go back to the way you were." Dumbledore took heavy breath. "Will you let me do this for you, Harry? In repayment for my failure to protect you?"

The offer hung between them for a long moment, laying heavy upon Harry's shoulders. Within his mind he was fighting to keep the hope at bay. Fighting to hold on to some valid reason not to go back to being so innocent, so ignorant to the darker sides of humanity. For exploring through Voldemort's mind, he had discovered all that a tainted soul was capable of. Innocence quenched through twisted experience.

And it was there he found his resolve to squash the juvenile hope springing forth. Why go back to being ignorant? Stupid and oblivious, wandering through the world, flitting from one stupid motive to the next in search of some pointless reason to exist. It was through a jaded mind he saw his former self as a lazy fool, more concerned with kisses than learning to survive. With this knowledge locked in his head, he would never need to worry about survival again. The small part of his mind hoping to go back, grew remorseful. _Those were good times._ Harry disagreed. _Those were pointless times._

The teen gave the older man a steadfast gaze. "No."

Dumbledore sighed and removed his hand from the young ward's shoulder. "Some say ignorance is bliss."

Harry smiled. "Then they would be fools." He considered something a moment. "Would you do it? I mean, in my shoes would you let someone pluck all that knowledge from you?"

The Headmaster's blue eyes sought the stone ground. "No, I wouldn't, but I had hoped."

Silence descended between them. "What next?" Harry asked before the moment turned awkward.

Dumbledore returned to his place by the window, a pleasant smile playing on his lips. "That's up to you. You've defeated Voldemort and his followers are being rounded up. There's not much else this school can teach you. So what's next is up to you, though I think a final few tasks would be prudently completed first. There is no rush, though."

"The horcruxes."

"Precisely." Harry's eyes darted to Dumbledore's left hand and a lead weight settled into his stomach. The older man raised it, looking at the black discoloration. "I see you've figured it out?"

"Your death is going to be very painful."

"It would be if I were going to let this run its course. Instead, I have made arrangements."

Harry had an idea what he meant by that. "You're going to off yourself. Going to have someone do you the honors?"

Dumbledore gave Harry an odd look. "Why would I put the debt of murder on someone's soul, when I could simply drink a potion and go on my own terms?"

"Makes sense." Harry shifted the conversation back to the horcruxes. "I know the ring and the diary are destroyed, so that leaves four. So where do you think the rest of them are at? Have you figured it out?" Harry smiled, curious how much Dumbledore had worked out.

Dumbledore leaned against the wall and brought a finger to his lips, smiling. "I have traced one to Tom's old hunting ground near the orphanage, and I believe he hid two somewhere of significance to him, while the last would be Nagini."

"Right and right. But where?"

"Hogwarts would be an ideal location, but he never had…"

"Wrong!"

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot into his forehead. "Where and when?"

"The Room of Requirement, where we held the DA meetings. He had enough time to sneak up there and stow it while on his way to the interview."

The Headmaster nodded his head. "And the last?"

"Gringott's in Bella's vault. Shit!"

"Yes, her being dead puts a bit of a problem reaching it. Who is her next of kin?"

"I've got no idea. Would her husband be able to get it?"

Dumbledore gave him a bland look. "I don't believe Bella would leave her inheritance to Rudolphus. In fact, I believe she would go out of her way to see that he never saw a galleon of it."

The young man shrugged. "To be honest, Tom didn't pay much attention to the marriages of his Death Eaters."

That elicited a chuckled from Dumbledore. "I can see that." They shared a smile over the topic before a somber mood seized Dumbledore. "There is one final piece of information I must share with you."

"Oh?"

"There was one other horcrux made. Seventeen years ago, when Voldemort tried to kill you, a piece of his soul broke off and attached itself to the one living person in the area."

"Me." Shock riddled Harry's face. "The scar?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, that is the reason you two share such an intimate connection. That is also why neither can die while the other survives."

Heartbeat racing, he asked, "How do I get it out of me? A killing curse?"

"I don't know. This has never happened in the history of magic, and there are no convenient ways out."

Harry's face darkened. "Make a guess."

Dumbledore calmly brought his hands together. "This is the first time my knowledge of magic fails me, Harry. If you were struck with a killing curse, it would either kill you and release both your souls, or it would release only his. I cannot be sure which would happen."

Harry took a few deep breaths, trying to fight back his mounting rage. "So I go through hell, beat the Dark Lord, only to learn he can only die if I die!" He yelled, his magic becoming a blazing aura around him. Thoughts went tumbling through his mind, ways to skin the old man alive. Ways to make him eat his own heart. Ways to make him choke to death on his long hair. _Yes, make the conniving old bastard pay for keeping all this from me!_ Harry shook off the thoughts.

"I have no easy answers for you, Harry. And as you now realize, life is never as simple as we'd like it to be."

Harry chose not to respond to that worthless bit of advice. "I think you should leave."

"If that is what you want."

"Right now, I want it badly." He speared the man with his eyes, but Dumbledore remained unaffected. As Dumbledore was about to call for Dobby, a final thought came to Harry. Something that had been nagging him. "Answer me something before you go."

"Anything."

"Why did you trust, Snape?"

"Anything but that. He once made me promise to never reveal that to anyone, but I will say this. To find the answer to that, just ask to see his patronus."

Thoroughly soured and unsatisfied, Harry looked away as he heard a pop. Dobby entered the room. Another pop heralded the Headmaster's exit. When his steward returned, asking about dinner, Harry sent the house-elf away, saying he was not hungry.

* * *

It was another two weeks before Harry was released from his confinement, healthy enough to interact with the student body and to attend classes. There were still daily regimens of potions to be administered, but Harry swallowed them with gusto, thrilled to be out and about.

His rejoining the student body was a spectacle the entire school would never forget. For a month they had put off celebrating the Dark Lord's defeat, awaiting their hero to join them. When he arrived, classes were canceled for three days and everyone partook of the festivities. People Harry did not know clapped him on the back and demanded he shake their hand. Always there were people trailing his every move. Only through subterfuge was he able to get alone-time every now and then.

Before, people had placed their faith in him, looking to him to fight with hope in their eyes. Now that he had beaten the Dark Lord, their stares became reverent.

"That's the price of fame, Harry, just try not to let it go to your head." Dumbledore had wisely told him during one of Harry's respites.

As the final few weeks of school came to a close, and the ardent fans became acclimated to Harry's presence, Dumbledore drew him aside to discuss more on the Horcruxes. "I would say wait till you are completely healthy to try and destroy them," he said after explaining Gryffindor's Sword.

"What about the diadem in the school?"

"That we can take care of before I depart. What are your plans for the summer?"

"Don't know. I haven't really thought about it much."

"Why not try a stint at the Weasley's? Molly has been begging me to ask you over. I fear she wishes to fret over you some."

"I guess I could, but after that…I don't know. What's next? What'd you do after beating Grindelwald?"

"I learned to live. You've spent you're life in the shadow of Voldemort, his existence always driving your choices. It's time to think beyond that. Just be careful of the darker thoughts your experiences can give you."

"I know." Harry had left on that note, tired of the man's constant warnings. He felt fine and in control of himself.

As the days whittled away and the summer loomed, he began to grow restless with no purpose to drive him. He would spend whole hours walking the grounds under his cloak, thinking and pondering what he would do next. It was on one of these outings that he encountered Draco Malfoy. His wand was in his hand before he could think, and a spell was launched before he could react. The spell struck the teen and he hit the ground, writhing in agony. Those accompanying him looked around in shock. One ran off to get a teacher.

Harry belatedly canceled the _crucio_ and regained his composure, unaware the baleful gaze he was giving Malfoy as he found his feet. His stooge, Crabbe, offered him a shoulder to lean on. Snape's prompt appearance sent Harry fleeing, knowing the man's suspicions of all things Potter.

It was in the quiet hours of that night Harry contemplated his reaction. The raw hatred he held for the teen was beyond anything he had felt towards him before. From where did the rage stem? The Dark Mark bloomed into his mind, the snake slithering in and out of the skull's mouth. _Voldemort's followers are still out there and each of them are indirectly responsible for capturing me. They could have done something. They could have stopped it!_

It was those thoughts that Harry found his new drive in life, to reap death upon those that chose to bear the Dark Mark.

For the first time in weeks he fell asleep with no nightmares to plague his mind.

* * *

The end of the term came quickly for the students, and the End of Term feast filled their stomachs. Dumbledore stood and gave all a heartfelt speech, alluding to the sacrifices some must take to guarantee the safety of the world. Most of the students were in tears by the end, while Harry tried not to barf at the sappy lines. He noted Dumbledore made no mention of seeing the students next term. _Had anyone else noticed?_

That afternoon the students boarded the Hogwarts Express, waving good-bye to their teachers as they did. Harry said his farewells but knew in two weeks he would see them again at Dumbledore's funeral. The ride on the train was uneventful. He, Ron, and Hermione sat alone in one compartment joking around, his two friends being careful not to mention his captivity. It felt good to be back in their presence, but it also felt odd. He had changed in those long months from their company. Matured beyond their childish aspirations.

Ron was worried about Quidditch, and Hermione was obsessed with making her NEWTS. Both seemed on a level below Harry. Yet, there were too many good memories associated with them for him to cast them aside, so he tolerated their presence and even found himself relaxing and smiling.

His arrival at the platform was likened to a muggle circus, hordes of the wizards and witches crowded the area, trying to get a word with the Chosen-one.

"You can sneak out, mate, if you wear your cloak."

"Good idea. I'll just skirt the edges of the crowd and make my way out." Hermione nodded at the sound idea, but Ron hesitated. "Yes?"

"Y-you are gonna come over, aren't you? To the burrow?"

Harry smiled. "Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world. I just need to take care of some things with the relatives. After that, I'll be right over." He paused. "Ron, do you think you could hold my things until I get there?"

"Sure." Ron spoke with enthusiasm. "When d'you think you'll be over?"

Harry pondered a moment. "Sometime tonight, I think."

The three exchanged a farewell glance before Harry donned his cloak, disappearing before their eyes.

* * *

**a/n::** I like the first part of the first scene, between him and Pomfrey. With Ddore I'm not too impressed with, something seems off. If anyone can point out where, I'd appreciate it. To those that question the story, let it be known this entire thing has been a big experiment and I've learned quite a lot from it. Thanks again for everyone that has read it and given critique.

**EDIT 1: Thanks again to Captain Shoulah, I'll watch that in that future. Worked on dialogue between Ddore and Harry. Seems a bit better.**

-byl, out.


	7. Chapter 7: The First Strike

Onward.

**The Lies that Bind**

**Chapter 7: The First Strike  
**

There was one thing keeping him from killing them, and it was not his cousin's dimwitted attempt at an apology. _Like one 'I'm sorry' is going to make up for years of bullying. Taking away my lunch and making me run, beating me up just for laughs._ Anger seared through Harry's mind, traveling through his system, seeking an outlet._ I could cut the fat from his body and make him eat it. _His green eyes narrowed and sought his uncle's large frame. _I could make him eat his son, repayment for a decade of neglect._ He recalled Vernon's beefy hands around his neck two years prior. _You wanted to strangle me. I could repay the favor._

"Please." Came his aunt's soft voice. She, her husband, and son were pressed against the wall, while Harry threatened them with his wand. "We gave you shelter. We gave you food. We protected you from that Dark Lord!" Her voice was desperate by the end.

It was then Harry realized he had given voice to his last thought. He gave them a rakish grin. "It was just a thought, nothing more. As to that Dark Lord…" his smile grew fierce. "I killed him."

His aunt's face paled.

Temptation sang in his mind, a dark voice fueling it with wonderful images. Yet, one thing still held his hand. Culpability. The Trace was active on him until his seventeenth birthday. It would not do for him to go to Azkahban before reaping his revenge on the surviving Death Eaters. It would not be a problem in magical households, thankfully.

His demeanor became pleasant, but they feared him more for it. "I'm glad we had this little talk. Just remember, I'll never come back and I hope to never see you again. If I do," he paused. "My fond memories of you won't stop me from thanking you for a wonderful childhood."

He bid them a wave before departing his old home. Never again would he want to see it. Never again would he wish to enter it. Never again. _Unless, of course, the fancy struck me to teach those dirty muggles a few lessons in pain. Bellatrix had been a wonderful teacher._ He paused in his gait, wondering where the last thought had stemmed.

He stood resolute for a moment and vowed to himself to never return. He waited to see if his mind agreed with him. When no thoughts of return came, he continued his pace, satisfied. Down Privet Drive he walked, his cloak tucked into his pocket. It was amazing how such a large clothe could be stuffed into such a small pocket. He chalked it up to magic.

Eventually, his feet found the park he and Dudley used to frequent. There on the swings he had imagined himself flying, until his cousin had pushed him off into the sand. They had beaten him up there. He recalled the merry-go-round and how they had forced him to stay on it while they spun it, until he puked. He recalled the tree his cousin had cornered him in, and for two hours Dudley and his gang hung around, taunting him.

He also remembered thinking about those same instances two years ago, before the dementors attacked. Then they had made him feel dejected, but now all he felt was anger.

His resolve from earlier faltered. _I should go back there and make them pay. Burn the house down while they screamed from inside it!_ On their own his feet exited the park, and when he reached Privet Drive he regained control of his senses. He swept the yearning for pain away and bottled the rage. _I will not return!_ His fortitude strengthened. _I've wasted enough time here; it's time to put them behind me._

He smiled. _Besides, I have sweet vengeance to dole out._

_

* * *

_

That evening at the Burrow a loving family was gathered for dinner. A fretting mother's voice came from the head of the table. "I wish he would get here, I worry about him being alone."

"Oh, mum, he's not going to off himself. He's Harry." Ron wanted to speak clearly, but it came out garbled around the food in his mouth.

"Ron! How many times do I have to tell you to swallow before you speak?"

Ron promptly swallowed. "I said…"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "We heard you the first time."

"Then why'd you ask me to repeat it?" he asked outraged.

Both of the women gave him a curious look. "We didn't."

Ron looked around abashed, silence his answer to them. Molly now understood her son was just as worried for his friend as she was. She offered him some comfort. "I'm sure you're right, dear. He's probably just saying good-bye to his relatives. Nasty as they have been to him, anyway." She took a bite of the steamed vegetables before continuing. "Those muggles are lucky to have Harry as a nephew. Just think, after all the horrid things they did to him, he still has enough love in him to say good-bye." She used her napkin to wipe a tear from her eye.

Ron looked uncomfortable with his mum's display of emotion, while Ginny stared at her food. The moment past and they resumed their meal. Ginny kept glancing to the clock, where her father's hand was pointing towards work. With the fall of Voldemort, most ministry officials were working longer and longer days.

There was a sudden knock on the door and Molly leapt to her feet. She removed the curtains covering the door and saw her adopted child staring at her, a smile on his thin face. She swung the door open and dragged the teenager inside, where she promptly enveloped him in a hug. It was only when Harry made wheezing noises that she released him. "Merlin's beard, Harry!" Tears crowded her eyes.

She went to hug him again, but he quickly dodged. "I think one's enough."

She laughed and smiled. Approaching him slowly, she moved her shaking hands through his hair and down to his chin. She moved his face left then right, examining the light playing across his cheeks. "I can't fault Madam Pomfrey for making you well again, but she doesn't know the first thing about putting meat on a thin frame." She grabbed Harry's hand and led him to the table. "Here, have a seat." She brought out her wand and uttered a quick incantation. Food instantly jumped off the various platters and flew to his own.

Only when a mountain had accumulated did she cancel the spell. Harry eyed the amount of food with doubt. "Alright, deary, eat up!"

With that she resumed her seat. Harry glanced from the plate to his best mate, who was currently trying to hide a grin. To Ron's left, Ginny was also trying to fight back a smile. With a heavy sigh, he dug in.

When dinner was over, and Molly set the dishes to washing, she tsked over Harry. "I wish you would have eaten all of it. You could use the food. Locked away like that for months—" She cut off abruptly.

Harry only groaned from his seat, his stomach so full conscious thought was difficult.

She sighed in relief, making a note to never mention his imprisonment again. When the cleaning had been done and her children ushered off to bed, she made herself comfortable by the fire, waiting her husband's return. She fell asleep there, until Arthur returned to waken her. Together they went to sleep, happy to know Harry was well and all was again right with the world.

* * *

His days at the Burrow were marked by late mornings and lazy afternoons. It was refreshing to swim in a cold pond while a hot sun hung overhead. It was pleasant to walk among wild fields, where magic animals darted between his feet. He enjoyed warm evenings by a fire with the closest thing he had to a family. Late evenings sometimes playing games with friends; Luna, Hermione, the twins, and even Neville paid him a visit.

Luna happily explained to him how he had managed to survive thanks to the Pillipis' help. Much to everyone else's horror, she would casually mention his imprisonment, oblivious to how it would affect Harry. To be frank, Harry did not mind her mentioning it, glad someone was not walking on eggshells every time they thought it. One evening, while walking her home, he asked about her apparent blasé regard to it. "Not I that care, mind you. I'm just curious."

"Oh, it's no big deal really." His eyebrows shot into his forehead. She amended her statement. "Not what happened, just that you asked."

He laughed. "Well?"

She shrugged. "Bad things happen to wonderful people, you remember my mum?" He nodded. "I don't like thinking about it, but hiding from it is worse. Same thing with your torture. Besides, we both know it doesn't bother you much."

The last statement surprised him. "What makes you say that?"

She looked into his eyes. "Everyone else that escaped from the Death Eaters is either in St. Mungo's or dead."

He failed to see the connection. "And?"

"They can't live normal lives, but you walk around like it never happened. You don't look haunted when it's mentioned. Therefore, you aren't bothered by it."

Harry nodded, more to himself than to what she said. It was moments like these he was reminded why Luna had been placed in Ravenclaw.

A few days later, he had a similar discussion with Hermione, though she was more sensitive to the nature of it. It had started rather oddly. "You've changed."

They were enjoying a simple lunch next to the pond. Ron and Ginny had accompanied them, but were no longer present. Ginny had teased Ron about Hermione and the redhead had given chase. That was one development that Harry had thought he would have a problem with. Much to his relief, he did not. During his absence his two closest friends had worried for his safety and turned to each other for comfort.

"What makes you think I've changed?" He asked.

"You're more laid back, not as prone to outbursts." She said, nibbling on some jellied toast.

"The biggest threat to my life is gone, why wouldn't I be more relaxed?"

She smiled. "I didn't say I didn't know why you'd changed, just that you had."

"Oh." He laughed. There was one change she had not caught on to, his constant surprise that some people around him were not complete fools. He attributed it to the arrogance he felt, possessing knowledge they did not. "That's all you wanted to say?"

"Pretty much." She bit her lip.

He sighed, sensing a 'but' in there. "But…"

"But, I've also seen you sometimes, thinking to yourself. You're smiling."

He forced himself to not look away and reveal any subterfuge. The times she was talking about was him imagining his revenge. "I'm just happy to be around here. Kind of like the very first vacation of my life. It almost seems like a dream." He gave his best sincere smile.

"I guess I can see that." She did not seem convinced. "You're also more charming and out-going."

She had mentioned two traits he had picked up from his trips into Tom's mind. His smile dropped. "Hermione, stop dancing around, and just tell me what's bothering you?" He wondered fleetingly if Dumbledore had discussed his secret with her. _She knows! Kill her! Rape her! Burn her!_ Harry kept an ironclad control over his facial features, lest the sudden panicked emotions show.

She did notice him tense up. "I think that you're just showing the world a happy front, while underneath you're hurting. Something that awful happening to anyone is bound to leave scars." She took a breath. "We're your friends and if you're suffering, we want to be there for you."

He relaxed, his secret still unknown. It would not be well for people to know Tom's thoughts lived on in him. "Hermione, I've discussed it with Dumbledore at length." He stressed the last word. "If there were anything really amiss, he would have told me. He told me I would have a few moments, but they would pass in time." He lied easily, not very comfortable continuing this discussion with her ever again. "And, I promise, that if I ever have doubts, I'll come to you and Ron, okay?"

She accepted the explanation and that was the end of it.

* * *

A week later his vacation came to end with Dumbledore's death. With the old headmaster now out of the world, Harry could begin his new mission in life, for only Dumbledore was smart enough to put the pieces together.

Harry attended the funeral, trying to stay calm and appear remorseful. He was on one level sad to see the man go, but beneath he was giddy.

Hundreds of people showed for the funeral, each wearing their best and crying for all they were worth. Dozens of people made speeches, declaring the man's life achievements. From old to young, they came out in droves to bid the influential man good-bye. They placed his body within a granite tomb on the grounds of Hogwarts, as were his last wishes.

As Harry sat amid the sea of people, he noted far in the back skulked Snape, his face an impassive mask. The teen narrowed his eyes, thinking about the Dark Mark he bore on his arm, but Dumbledore's last words rang in his mind. _Just ask to see his patronus._

_You're lucky, Severus, but I'll wait for judgment till later._

Sometime during the procession of orators, Ginny, sitting beside him, began to cry on his shoulder, her hand finding his and gripping it. He regarded her with a resigned look, not liking what this entailed about her feelings to him. Did she hope to reclaim her place in his heart? _Don't waste your time._

That night, the Weasley house hold was silent as the grieving found their way to bed. Charlie and Bill were both visiting, Bill with his fiancé draped on his arm; Harry enjoyed sneaking unobtrusive peeks at her. Their wedding was due at the end of month.

The twins, thankfully, stayed at their own loft above their store, meaning the house was not too crowded.

At midnight, Harry awoke and got to his feet. He glanced towards Ron and cast a sleeping-spell on him; it would not do for him to waken and find his best mate gone. Harry had to keep everyone's suspicions low. He grabbed the pack from under his bed, prepared earlier. He brought out a small broom and his cloak. After enlarging his broom, he mounted it, opened the window, and draped the cloak over himself. He was on his way.

He flew through the air, free as a bird, a manic glint shining in his green eyes.

In due time, the moment of elation passed and he set to work. The first victims chosen to die were going to be the Carrows. Both were being held under house arrest guarded by Aurors, for suspicion of being Death Eaters. Both pled not guilty and cried they had been coerced to join, lest their family suffer. Since the Ministry was well passed the days of Barty Crouch's ruthlessness, their case was being seriously investigated.

Harry apparated mid-flight and soon found himself under a different sky, clouds lingering between him and the stars. Below, in a suburb of London was a motley collection of colorful houses, thought to be a park by those living around it. There were a total of ten, ranging from drab to elaborate. If Harry recalled the McKinney's lived in the largest House, they held the largest investments in the Daily Prophet and were once close to Fudge.

The drab one was where Alecto and Amicus were staying. It had once belonged to their uncle, but with his passing had given to them. The reason Harry knew all this was because the house had been used as a staging base for operations against the muggles.

Harry gave a slow spiral of a descent, casting a few detection spells as he went. In seconds, he knew there were anti-apparation wards, confinement-wards, and ward that prevented charmed objects from flying.

The solution around them was to go through the front door. Harry landed in the cobbled street in front of the house. He shrank his broom and pocketed it. He blithely walked towards the house, carefully climbing over the waist-high gate that barred his way. Two Aurors could be seen by porch-light sitting on the steps and talking. As Harry approached them he heard them discussing the newest recruits for next season's Quidditch games.

Harry waved his wand and concentrated. A blue hazy light settled over them; neither noticed it. With the Oblivious Charm completed, Harry walked by. He cast an unlocking spell on the door and entered. He paused and took a breath, taking in the environment. It was mostly how he remembered it, loose floor boards with a mess in every corner. The wallpaper was faded and the ceiling looked ready to collapse.

He imagined the Carrows would be sleeping in the upstairs bedroom. He turned around and locked the door, trying in vain to keep a predatory smile from consuming his face.

He crept up the stairs, using a silencing spell on his sneakers. Through the hallway he lurked, shadows dancing across his face. He passed three doorways, all leading to empty rooms, before finding one at the end of the hall. Inside he caught the two siblings in bed together, the aftermath of their incestuous love-making hung heavy in the air. Harry paused to watch them cling to each other, this act confirming Voldemort's suspicions.

He shrugged, casting the matter aside. In the end, it did not matter. He scanned the room and found their wands discarded carelessly on a bedside table. With a flick of his wrist they were sent flying to a corner. The rattle they made hitting the old wooden boards did not wake the siblings. Harry approached them, smiling. He knew this was going too easily. He paused, crouched over their sleeping forms, waiting for fate or some similar force to mess up his plan.

Nothing. His smile grew. "Wake-up, wake-up, wake-up," he said, eliciting groans from both. He placed his wand inches from them and sent a jolt of electricity into both. Their bodies jerked and spasmed, with Aleckto trying to reach her wand on the table. Harry canceled the spell and took a few quick steps back when her hand got close to him. He looked up and his smile fell when Amicus came up bearing a spare wand. Harry reacted quickly, raising his own. The spell he unleashed caused Amicus to drop the wand and rise into the air. The Death Eater cried in shock, which turned into a scream when Harry slashed with his arm, sending the hapless wizard through the floor boards.

By then Aleckto was cognizant enough to lunge at Harry, but she encountered an invisible wall. Harry turned his green eyes onto her, each filled with malice, and smiled. A rope sprouted from his wand, which he flicked to wrap around her neck. It tightened and she gagged, her hands trying to undo it. "Let's go find your brother."

With that he walked to the hole and jumped down, forcing the woman to follow. She landed in a heap, a crack emanating from her knee. The teen kept walking, forcing her follow. She wobbled and whimpered, her left leg unable to support her. They found Amicus in a silent heap, surrounded by wooden boards, splinters, and dust. Harry spelled him awake, only to send him flying through a wall. Harry repeated this a few more times, until the man could no longer be revived. By then, Aleckto was turning a deep shade of red, while her eyes were glazed over in pain.

"Do you know why I'm doing this?" he asked her.

She shook her head.

"Don't be stupid. You know why I'm doing this. I'm doing this because you let _her_ hurt me. You let _him_ toss me to her." He shook his head, realizing how stupid it was to speak to her. _Words aren't necessary, only pain. Make her scream! Make her pay!_ Harry succumbed to the dark voice and summoned her brother's inert form. "Do you love him, truly love him?"

She nodded emphatically. Harry twirled his wand and the brother's body bent backwards until a series of snaps could be heard. Alecto screamed. Harry tossed the body through one more wall before driving a piece of wood through the chest. Aleckto tried to attack him; Harry jerked the rope, and she went to the ground breathless. With a wave he had the rope tied to a beam in the ceiling. With another he pulled it taunt, dragging her into the air. She kicked her legs, attempting to find purchase, but she had little luck. Harry cocked his head to the right, examining her method of dying.

_She hasn't suffered enough!_

_ No, she hasn't._ He touched the cord with the tip of his wand and lit it on fire. He took a step back and watched the flames engulf her neck, her body writhing with panic.

He nodded, satisfied.

Without looking back, ignoring her manic screams, he walked from the house. He donned his cloak once more and enlarged his broom. After climbing over the gate and exiting the anti-flying ward he turned back and pointed his wand into the air. "Morsmodre." High in the sky the skull and snake appeared, a sign of what had transpired here. It was then he canceled the oblivious-charm on the Aurors. He took to the air, not waiting to see their shocked expressions.

* * *

"Harry, have you read the morning paper?" Ron cried as Harry came down late to breakfast. He had flown through the air for some time after the incident before coming back.

He yawned and took a seat, grabbing some of the leftovers as he did. "No, I didn't. What's in it?" He took a bite from some toast.

"The Dark Mark was found over a house last night! The Carrows! They were suspected of being Death Eaters." He explained. He pondered a moment. "I guess this means they really were, if other Death Eaters did'em in."

Harry blinked through the shock. Their deaths were less than eight hours ago. It was then he recalled how fast news was published in the Wizarding World. Harry began to devour his breakfast as Ron went into graphic detail of the deaths.

"Ronald Weasley!" Yelled his mum, snatching the paper from his hands. "Don't be so rude. Some are still eating breakfast." She waved the paper towards Hermione, his father, and Charlie.

"Yeah, and so am I." Ron gestured to his own half-full plate.

"Where'd I go wrong?" she muttered, throwing her hands into the air and walking away. Many tried to hide a smile behind their hands.

"What do you think about the whole business, Harry?" Charlie pressed.

Harry swallowed his food. "I think it serves them right."

"Harry!" Hermione spoke in outrage. "How could you think that? No one deserves to die in such an awful way!"

Harry's face darkened and he gripped his wand. _How dare she? They deserved it. They all deserved it! Make her deserve it!_ Harry fought back the urge to curse her. "Everyone that has the Dark Mark deserves to die in the most horrible way. Period." He drew a breath. "You want to know why I think like that? Because, one of them tortured me!" He stood and stalked from the room, silence following in his wake.

Outside Harry kicked the side of the house with his foot, angry he had lost his composure and angry for Hermione for defending the monsters.

"Harry?" Came a tentative voice. The teen turned to see Arthur Weasley walking towards him, the teen's plate of unfinished food in his hands.

Harry visibly calmed himself, trying to bring his charm to bear. "I'm sorry about that, Mr. Weasley, I didn't mean to lose my temper like that."

Arthur only smiled and gave the plate to Harry. "You have no reason to apologize. Hermione was out of place speaking like that. As much as the murders were horrible, I can't bring myself to feel bad about it like she can. She wasn't in the first war and was mostly sheltered by the second. She doesn't know the things the Death Eaters did." He laughed ruefully. "I do know firsthand, considering Voldemort's pet tried to eat me."

Harry recalled the incident from his fifth year. "So, you think they deserved it?"

Arthur gave the question serious consideration. "If I say yes, I sound like a horrible person. Yet, I can't help but think they got what they deserved in the end."

Harry relaxed and looked to the plate in front of him, piled with eggs and sausage links. He gave Arthur a warm smile. "Thanks."

The older man put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I haven't thanked you yet for killing Voldemort, so thank-you. I also can't imagine what it was like to be held prisoner, but from what I've seen, if only a few angry outbursts are the only side-effects, then you're a much stronger man than I. Eat up, Harry, and enjoy life."

With that he walked away, leaving Harry secure in the knowledge that none suspected his thoughts. Plate in hand, he sat in the lawn and wondered, _who's next?_


	8. Chapter 8: Visceral Thoughts

Updating on time is fun, does it you?

**The Lies that Bind**

**Chapter 8: Visceral Thoughts**

He was perched in a tree with a clear night sky above him. The stars twinkled and the moon shone, illuminating the ground for the teen. Below in a bush was a magic ward, awaiting a small rodent to set it off. The hunt had started at midnight and had been going on for hours. All the while, the teen waited patiently for his animal to bring the prey to him.

The baying of a dog sounded in the distance, and Harry stretched sore muscles. He readied his wand and waited a few more minutes, the sounds of a chase growing nearer. Then, like a brown bolt of lightning, a small rodent darted into the brush as a blood hound bore down on it. Harry smiled and dropped from the tree, landing on the ground easily. The blood hound stopped in its tracks, the concentration in its eyes shifting to adoration. The dog nudged the young man, seeking praise, but Harry was too intent on his prey.

There, screaming and rustling around, was the trapped rat. The bush rattled with each attempt to flee, but the magic upon the plant prevented flight. Harry laughed and cast a quick spell, forcing the wizard to keep his animagus form. "Hello, Peter." The bush became silent for a moment. "What, surprised?" Harry gave a dark chuckle. "You shouldn't be."

Cries of panic erupted from the plant; its shaking increased. "Nothing can save you now. No manner or pleading can stop me, and there's no hole for you to hide in this time." He raised his wand and vanished the plant, leaving only the rat to scurry between four invisible walls. It regarded Harry with two beady, terrified eyes.

Harry touched his wand to the dog and watched as it was transfigured into a large cat. The feline leaped into his arms. It purred as he stroked it. "A couple years ago, I stopped a few of your friends from killing you. This placed a life-debt between us, right?"

The rat stopped, seemingly confused. Hesitantly, it nodded its head.

"I'm glad you remember. I also hope you remember the room Voldemort sentenced me to Bellatrix's hands."

The rat shook its head madly.

Harry made calming motions with his free hand. "Don't deny it. I remember very clearly who was there." _Make him bleed for what he did, make him suffer._ Harry ignored the words, irritated at his conscious. The words themselves came and went, but their insistence was becoming stronger. His will to see his prey suffer was becoming harder to quench. Harry sighed. "Well, Peter, since you owe your life to me, I've decided to take it. Good-bye."

With that he tossed the cat into the magic enclosure. It slowly stalked the rat, its eyes brimming with hunger. Peter squealed in fright. With wild motions he threw itself against a corner, hoping to dodge the cat's paws. He failed. The cat caught him in the waist, shredding skin and exposing inner organs. Peter squealed and the cat slashed again. Tiring quickly of the game, it pinned the rat to the ground and slowly dissected it, spilling the guts onto the ground. The cat began to nibble on them, then scooped them up with its tongue.

The rat wheezed and heaved in pain. Done with the entrails, the cat scooped up the rat's head and began to gnawing on it, the skull cracking between its jaws. After a few moments, the cat gave a vicious chop. It ate the rest, piece by piece, finishing by licking the blood from its chops.

"That was quite satisfying." Harry said, a sick smile playing across his lips. _Even my baser side seems pleased._ He clapped his hands and the cat leaped into his arms, welcoming his caress. Harry waved his wand over the cat's claws, vanishing them. He then let his wand tip touch the cat's temple. "_Finite._"

Animal intuition gave way human comprehension. The cat's mouth fell open in shock and horror overcame the eyes. Harry continued to pet him, whispering to him in soothing tones. "Shush, shush, it's going to okay. It's all going to be okay." The cat slowly looked up to see Harry's smiling face. "Draco, you did a very good job. I'm very proud of you."

The cat's hair stood on end and it struggled in Harry's grip. He slashed at him, but it took Draco a moment to see he had no claws. Harry moved his hands to the cat's neck, speaking as he did. "Actually, I'm lying. Everything's not going to be alright. You're about to die."

Draco hissed and sputtered, and Harry's grip tightened. With a sudden jerk, followed by a loud snap, the body went limp. "Dumbledore may have vouched for you to the Ministry, but we both know what you really are." He paused. "Dead!" Harry tossed the body aside, laughing.

* * *

Severus Snape was not having a good night. Fear of the DE-Killer had him tossing and turning through the night. There had already been twelve killings in the week since the Carrows had died. Four of those had been on the run, and only been found because of the serial killer's call sign. Five had been under house arrest, like the Carrows. One of those had been kept under so much protection the Auror's bragged nothing to get to them. Until, the morning revealed a Dark Mark high above the house. When they investigated the body, all they found was a pile of ooze; what the acid-eating curse had left behind.

That same night, the two Death Eaters under investigation by the DMLE had been murdered inside the Ministry itself. One had been flayed alive while the other had been drawn and quartered. At this point the safest place for a Death Eater seemed to be Azkaban.

Snape walked down the hall, making his way to the kitchen. He hoped a cup of tea with milk would calm his nerves. It was not often he found himself afraid, but some intuitive part of his mind warned him he was on the list, and the killer was a very accomplished wizard. He had no idea who they could be. He suspected someone they had wronged in the past, and that they were using the deaths of Albus and Voldemort to move so brazenly. He half-suspected Mad-Eye Moody, but age and Dumbledore had softened the ex-Auror's brutality.

He entered his kitchen and snapped his fingers; seven candles came to life, illuminating the room and part of his den connected to it. The two were one room, with carpet decorating the den's floor and old tile for the kitchen. He opened the cold-charmed cabinet and pulled out the milk. He set it on the corner, and that was when he noticed someone lounging in his den, their feet propped up on his writing desk.

His black eyes narrowed when he recognized his ex-student reading one of his parchments. "Potter!" He snarled. He marched into the room, his bed robes billowing behind him. "How dare you come into my home."

"What is this nonsense?" Harry spoke, disgusted. "I can barely read any of this garbage." He drew the parchment closer to his face. "It's so tiny."

"Get out my house."

"Oh, hi, Severus." Harry waved.

The older man's demeanor chilled. "Don't make me force you out, Potter. You wouldn't like the results."

Harry sniggered. "I'd like to see you try."

Snape brought out his wand. "_Levicorpus_!" The older man's wand became a rubber chicken. His former student burst into gales of laughter.

The potions professor clenched his teeth and took a step forward. Harry's mood shifted from jovial to lethal. A moment later a wand was in his hands, Snape's. "Take another step and I'll kill you."

Snape paused. He took a few steps back, his mind putting a few pieces together. "You stuck into my home undetected? Switched my wand without my knowledge?"  
Harry cocked his head to the side. "Yep."

"You're the DE-Killer." The answer was there, confirmed even before Harry nodded. Snape, though, was now struggling with how. How could his inept student become so skilled? The boy's connection with Voldemort? He had heard stories of his battle with the Dark Lord, but had thought most of it exaggerated. He was now revising that opinion.

"I am at an impasse, ___Snivellus_. On the one hand, you left me to Bellatrix's hands. Though, Dumbledore easily explained that away. I found his logic well thought out but lacking in the emotional department. You should have gone in there, killed the bitch, and dragged me out." He brought a finger to his lips. "Okay, so those cancel each other out."

"You talk like you're going to kill me. Have you forgotten my role in the war already?" Snape refrained from licking his lips; he would show this boy no signs of fear. He had faced the Dark Lord numerous times, yet a nagging part of his mind was drawing similarities between those times and this.

Harry went on, ignoring him. "Yet, you also bear the Dark Mark, itself a crime lending to a painful death. Dumbledore yet again comes to save your sorry arse. He wouldn't tell me what it was that proved, beyond a doubt, your loyalty, but I am finding myself not caring. I just want to watch you bleed, suffer, and die." He muttered a few more sentences, but they were too soft for Snape to hear. The only words he caught were 'pay' and 'suffer.'

"I think I'll be the first to point out that you're mad."

"No, just getting a little revenge."

"For what? For me leaving you?"

"Yes. I want every single person that let me rot in that hell to pay for it. That includes you." His wand came up and Snape looked death in the eyes.

"Then quit dancing around and kill me." He took a bold step forward, the wand point pressing into his chest.

Harry scowled and turned away, beginning to pace. Snape blew out a sigh of relief, glad the Headmaster's words still held sway over the teen. Harry abruptly stopped and tossed Snape his wand. The man caught it, but stopped himself from attacking. If Harry really had defeated the Dark Lord, Snape stood little chance against him.

"Show me your patronus!" Snape tensed, not wanting something that personal revealed to Harry. "You hesitate?" Harry drew his own wand, the tip glowing green. "I know you're good, Snape, I've seen you. But, you're no match against me. So, show me your patronus…or die."

Snape's world narrowed to two options, the cool embrace of death or the awkward feeling of having his deepest secret exposed. None could say Snape was a coward. "_Expecto Patronum!_" The silver doe sprang from his wand tip, elegant and haunting.

Harry stared at the doe, confused for a long moment, before throwing his head back and laughing.

"You're kidding!"

Snape let the animal dissolve. "No, it is no joke. It was my love for your mother that drove me to work against Voldemort." The confession stung as it left his lips. The wound from her passing was still raw and fresh within him. Harry chuckled more, his humor adding salt to it.

"You really are sad, Snape. This whole time you've had a hard-on for my mum? _That's_ the reason you turned your back on me?"

In his anger, Snape missed Harry's slip. "What do you know of love?"

"Nothing really, but I do know if a girl I liked died, I'd move-on. Hell, if a girl I liked got _married _to another bloke, I'd move-on." He shook his head in disbelief. "I'll tell you what. Since you're life consists of teaching insipid idiots and pining after my mum, I'll let you live. I think death would be a blessing for you." He made to leave but paused. "Just a quick thought. If you think of telling anyone of my occupation…don't. I'll kill you for one, and two, no one's going to believe your word over mine."

Snape's face contorted as Harry disappeared under his cloak. He barely maintained control of himself. Sleep was now far from his mind. Instead, he needed to work, let the anger and loss pass from his system. He went to his laboratory, hoping a long session would calm his nerves.

* * *

Harry yawned over his plate of eggs and bacon. To the side sat a glass of chilled pumpkin juice.

Ginny gave him a worried look. "You didn't get much sleep?"

Harry ignored the care in her tone. "No."

Ron looked shocked. "Why not?" Then he recalled a few of the sleepless nights Harry had endured in school. "Oh. Nightmares again, mate?"

Harry nodded absently, focusing on his food.

"Oh, Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen. "If you want, I can brew you some dreamless draught potion."

"That would be nice, Mrs. Weasley." He called back, the sounds of dishes being put away almost drowning out his voice.

Her voice returned. "Don't expect it every night. It's very addicting, but I'll brew you some every now and again."

Harry returned to his breakfast as Ron made to read more of the paper. Since the DE-Killer's advent Ron had taking to reading it every morning. He whistled softly. No one took the cue. He whistled a little louder.

Ginny looked up from her toast, irritated. "What?"

Ron put the paper down. "There were no murders last night. It's got everyone worried, thinking he's planning something bigger." He lowered his voice. "They think he's going to strike Azkaban next."

Ginny, despite her earlier reticence, was piqued by the speculation. "The prison? How with all the dementors there?" She recalled some of the murders had taken place in the DMLE's holding cells. "Well, maybe he could get in, but Azkaban's a lot more secure than the Ministry."

Ron nodded in agreement. "They're still upping the security, hourly fly-bys, and they're hiring some merfolk to scout out the waters." He quickly reopened the paper and reread another bit of news. His eyes widened. "They're also redoing the wards."

"Do you think it'll be enough?"

Ron shrugged. "I don't know, but I got a feeling it just might be. Shame, too, those Death Eaters deserved the Killer's justice."

"Ronald Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley shouted. "There is a reason we have laws! So somebody can't go around and kill who they want. I don't _ever_ want to hear such thoughts from you again!"

"But, Mum! They're Death Eaters!"

Harry tuned out the argument, amused at the lengths the Ministry was going to protect murderers. The idea they were guarding and warding the place against him almost seemed like a challenge. He grinned wickedly, already seeing how he could slip their flybys. The smile vanished when he realized that those held within the prison were beyond his revenge. They had been absence at the meeting, when all the rest had allowed Bellatrix to take him away.

_Does it matter? They bare the Dark Mark! If they had been there, they wouldn't have done anything. They deserve to die like the rest! _Harry nodded absently, agreeing with himself completely. It did not matter where they were, they would have done nothing, just like the rest. He would give the Ministry a few more days to finish their preparations before striking. The challenge had to be worth it, since killing the Death Eaters had become quite easy of late.

Molly and her son's argument finally died down, with the gangly red-haired son conceding to never saw such awful things again. When she walked away he gave her an angry look and muttered something beneath his breath. Ginny smiled. "I wonder what Mum would think if she knew you'd said that?"

Ron looked terrified. "You wouldn't?"

She shrugged, nonchalant. "I might, but suppose you cleaned the bathroom for me this week?"

His face reddened. "How about you go hang yourself?"

"And next week." She smiled sweetly.

Her brother grit his teeth, but before he spoke Ginny called for their mother.

Ron's anger evaporated, and before their mother appeared, he whispered, "Alright!"

"Yes, dear?"

"Oh, I just wanted to thank-you for breakfast and to say I love you."

Molly looked ready to weep, dabbing her eyes with her apron. "Thank-you." She gave Ron a stern look. "Maybe, you could learn a thing or two from your sister." With that she returned to the kitchen to finished cleaning up. On their own, the dishes from the table climbed into the air and followed her.

Ron looked to his sister, who could not stop grinning. "Yeah, I could learn how to be rotten like you."

Ginny laughed before rising and going to the door. There she paused and looked to Harry. "Want to join me for a walk?"

"No, I'm going to try and take a nap." Not caring to see her hurt reaction, he left the table and climbed the stairs, growing irritated by the teen's continued attempts to win his affection. He was not sure what Ron was going to do, but he found he did not care. Since beginning his crusade against those that had wronged him, he found he cared less and less for his current setting. The carefree days lounging with friends had given way to bickering siblings and boring days filled with restless desires. Dumbledore's unfinished work, the destruction of the horcruxes, he had been putting off in favor of Death Eater hunting.

He walked into Ron's room, closing the door as he did. On the days where he thought to begin the old man's work, he always found something to distract him. A visit to his vaults or to Grimmauld Place. A long talk to Mr. Weasley about how the Ministry worked or listening to Mrs. Weasley spout praise about Ginny. It was frustrating that he would rather do those stupid and meaningless things than finish off his mortal enemy!

In a sudden rage, he slashed his wand at the bed, making blood seep out from the wood. The sight calmed in, and in that moment it disturbed him. Visceral things brought a smile to his face and hearing his enemies beg for life made him laugh. Was this what he was turning into? A crazed psychotic who only wanted to watch the world burn? Was he becoming Voldemort? He rushed to the mirror and stared at his reflection, noting his pale skin and dimmed eyes. He completely forgot the blood pooling onto the ground.

_Am I becoming Voldemort?_ The absurdity of that statement sunk in and his moment of angst passed. _I'm don't care to see the world burn, only those that wronged me. The only reason it gives me pleasure is that it's helping me cope with the trauma Bella inflicted on me. I'm channeling my hatred for her onto them, rather than internalizing it or externalizing it against my friends._ The words calmed his anxiety. _The only reason I'm putting off the horcruxes is because I still haven't figured out how to access Bellatrix's vaults with her and her husband dead. I don't know who inherited them._

_Besides, I can't become Voldemort, because I have the one thing he didn't. Love. That is what protected me and why my choices differed from his._

With his sense of self restored, Harry canceled the magic on the bed. It would not be good to have anyone find that. He would rather they think everything was fine in his head. He yawned suddenly, the motion reminding him of how late his night had been. He caved to his desire for rest and fell upon the bed. Within moments, darkness greeted his eyes and dreams of screaming Death Eaters greeted his mind.

There was one question that had escaped Harry's analysis of himself. If he were externalizing his trauma from Bellatrix, why could he no longer recall those dark days?

* * *

**a/n::** The usual, any mistakes or critiques are welcome. I'll leave with a little tidbit about next chapter, something I think many are wondering to. Hint: It involves Daphne. Thx goes to everyone reading and enjoying. I hope people are enjoying the DE scenes.

-byl, out.


	9. Chapter 9: A Twisted Engagement

Now let's see if I failed.

**The Lies that Bind**

**Chapter Nine: A Twisted Engagement**

There was one person whom Harry was still torn about. Daphne Greengrass. His final weeks at Hogwarts had been free of her, because her role in his capture had been exposed to the public, branding her a hated vigilante. Over time, she faded from the public's eye, their bloodlust slacked by the reports of other Death Eater captures, but she had never left Harry's mind.

What to do about her was something he was undecided on. On the one hand, he wanted to give her years of screaming anguish. Chained, beaten, humiliated, and driven insane, as he had been treated. The bitch would deserve every beautiful moment of it. The other hand was more confused. On that side of the problem were his jumbled feelings for her and his memories of their sexual encounters, coupled with his human need not to be alone.

The last part bothered him, for he thought himself above such needs. Above the need to socialize. Above the need for acceptance. Above the need for a mate. He still desired sex, though, but why had he not engaged in the matter with the youngest Weasley? She was more than willing.

At the moment, the person on his thoughts was lounging in the chair across from him, wearing a red sundress that was pulled up to reveal pale, freckled legs. Harry's eyes trailed up the thin limbs, his mind wondering to the field hidden between them. He jerked his head to the left, seeing Mr. Weasley dozing by the fireplace; his day off spent sleeping between meals.

Harry was glad the Weasley patriarch had not seen him eyeing his daughter. He shifted his attention back to the paper before him. He was trying to read it for where more Death Eaters were being watched by the Ministry, but it seemed they had wizened up and quit posting the locations. Ginny was currently listening to a show on the Wizarding Wireless about a couple separated by vast distances, trying desperately to reconnect. The girl's interest in the drama soured his arousal.

He put the paper down and looked to his hands, wondering why he could not commit himself to sleeping with her. Or why the idea of sleeping with a woman was appealing while masturbating but held little interest to him while not? Was he gay? He swiftly cast that possibility aside. Then the answer to his first question came in the way of a memory. Harry recalled asking a similar question when he first met Daphne. The question then had been: why was he so eager to sleep with her when in the past he had been reticent to the idea?

The answer to them both was he wanted something more to the act. To him, then and now, on

some emotional level, he needed there to be more to the act than just lust.

He let his head fall against the backside of the armchair, fighting the urge to start cursing.

_I don't need to have feelings for them; I just need to watch them bleed._ He pushed his overbearing conscious to the side. It was becoming an irritant during the day, when his thoughts were far from retribution. For a moment, he considered that maybe he was over thinking it, but when he imagined himself feeling something behind the act, as he had with Daphne, sex became a much more enticing idea.

_It seems I'm built to love someone before fucking them._ His face took on a sick expression as he thought of himself falling in love. _I lost so many stupid traits after the torture, why couldn't I have lost this one?_

Fed-up with the company, and himself; he left the room, marched up the stairs, and grabbed his broom. He hoped the wind and the stars could ease his unsatisfied mood.

It was the following morning that, after taking the night off, he found resolution with Daphne.

Sitting around the table, as had become their routine that summer, were Ginny, Harry, and Ron, eating in silence. Charlie had returned to the dragon preserve in Romania, while Bill had gone to France to visit with Fluer's relatives, for their pending nuptials in August. Mr. Weasley was again at the Ministry, helping to coordinate and organize the Departments who, after weeks of chaos, were beginning to finally have peace.

Mrs. Weasley was in the kitchen, cleaning as was her usual.

Ron's victorious cry broke the monotony. "They caught the bitch!"

"Ronald—"

"No, Mum, look!" He sprang from his chair and met his mother at the door to the dining room. "See!" He pointed to a headline in the Daily Prophet.

"Oh….I see." She gave a smug smile and nodded to herself, before turning a critical eye to her son. "Language."

"Yes, Mum," he mumbled. She walked away, returning to her duties.

Ron spied her once, then rushed over to show Harry and Ginny. "Look." He thrust the paper their way, making sure the print was easily read.

_Potter's Betrayer Captured!_ Read the headline. Harry quickly skimmed the article.

…confessed to dozens of crimes.

…was unrepentant...

"The saddest day for magical Britain is when Lord Voldemort died!"

Harry sat back, contemplating this very carefully. It was only a moment later he realized that his two friends expected a reaction. Still unsure how to handle this, he gave them a neutral one. He looked out the window, pushing the paper away. Ron's excitement abated and Ginny's vindictive mood sobered.

"Well, aren't you glad?" Ron demanded.

Harry gave him a chilled expression. He pushed his plate aside, rose, and left the table. His thoughts were a jumble. Unbidden, their blissful times in Hogwarts assaulted his mind, desperately trying to make his thoughts from then prevalent now. As he ascended the stairs, memories from within the dark room besieged him as well, her kissing confession and the pain she gave him. As he collected his broom and flew out the window it felt like a battle was raging in his head. The old Harry trying one last attempt to become the dominant voice.

"It feels like I have two consciouses." He shook his head, trying to shake the disorientating feeling away, relying on his cold and calculating mind, acquired from Voldemort's memories, to weather the storm.

In a haze he flew with one destination in mind. The source of his sudden uncertainty. Daphne Greengrass.

He donned his cloak and apparated to London. He flew to the phone booth that would take him to the Ministry. In minutes, he had checked in his wand and was striding towards the DMLE. He entered the offices, walking past the secretary. She squawked with indignation, but one look at his forehead stopped any further protest. Harry glanced from door to door, reading the plaques as he went. When he read one that said Dawlish, he scowled but took no action to deface it.

Finally, he stopped at one that read Kingsley Shacklebolt. He entered only to find an empty room. The desk was clean and organized to a point. It was not orderly, but the mess was contained. The chair was of leather and looked worn, while the carpet was green. Harry took a seat and waited, trying to ignore the fight still waging in his mind. It was starting to give him a headache.

It was not long before the Auror returned to his office; Harry assumed someone had seen him enter and sent for the man.

The man's deep baritone greeted Harry. "Hello, Mr. Potter, what can I do for you?"

Harry was quiet, considering his replies. "Kingsley, I'm conflicted." He looked up, his eyes meeting the Auror's.

Kingsley sighed. "This is about Daphne, isn't it?"

Harry nodded solemnly. "I need to talk to her."

The Auror leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "I don't think that's a good idea." The Auror's voice was guarded.

_Does he suspect? Kill him, kill him, kill him, kill him!_ The voice raged and Harry drew a breath, trying to beat back the instinct. "Do you think you could stop me?" The threat in his voice was obvious.

Kingsley's eyes widened. "Don't make me this difficult for me." He licked his lips, vividly remembering Harry's fight with Voldemort.

Harry rubbed his head, the battle subduing somewhat. He collected himself and tried a more diplomatic approach. "Why can't I see her?"

"I don't think it would be a good idea for either of you. Regardless, it's against DMLE policy to let non-officials talk to prisoners." His tone became more reasonable.

_Should I force the issue…no._ "You may have an innocent woman down there."

Kingsley laughed at the implication. "Not according to her. She's already confessed to murdering two muggle sisters who went missing last summer. Anne and Juliet Hawthorne. Plus, she admitted her part in your…capture." Like everyone else, he was reluctant to mention it.

Harry quickly spoke, the lies leaving his lips with ease. "She was the one who fed me and kept me sane through the long hours of torture. She only became involved in my capture when Bella learned we were dating. They coerced her into doing it by threatening her family. She confessed this to me after my first session with Lestrange. Besides, she's labeled a Death Eater and terrified of the DE-Killer. Thus far, the safest place in England is Azkaban." He paused. A sudden thought revealed itself to him; why she had given herself in.

"You're not saying…"

Harry nodded. "I am. I'm saying she confessed to those crimes just to stay alive. Is Azkaban not the safest place in Britain now, for a Death Eater?"

Kingsley began to pace, wrestling with the implications. It did make sense to a degree, and the girl was awfully young to have committed the crimes. "Maybe." There was another long pause. "It does explain her zealousness." He shook his head. "I thought she'd confessed too easily. You think you can convince her to stop this nonsense, then? That's why you want to talk to her?"

Harry nodded, realizing just how much sway his words held over others. "The one thing she wants is safety. And let's face it, that's something I can give her."

"You think you can handle the Killer?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't think I need to answer that."

A deep laugh was the older man's response. "You're right, you don't. Alright, I'll take you down and clear this up."

As Harry was escorted to the lower dungeons, seven levels below the offices, Kingsley explained a few of the defenses they used. Harry did not bother telling him he already knew them.

"It's hard to believe she could be innocent. She seemed pretty fervent…" _That's because Daphne is a wonderful actress, _thought Harry. The thought brought bitterness with it. "…but her age always bothered me." Kingsley explained.

They passed a few Aurors posted as guards who gave Kingsley a questioning look, but when they recognized Harry they let their doubts fall away.

As the two of them passed cell doors, Harry checked off who he had killed behind a few of them. They paused at door forty-five. There was no knob and the wooden door was bound with iron and covered in runes. Harry predicted the order Kingsley touched them. _Standard Reycion Sequence._ The door shimmered like a rainbow before opening a crack. "I'll give you all the time you need, okay? I don't like the idea of sending an innocent girl to Azkaban."

Harry smiled. "Don't worry; I'll have a talk with her." Harry pulled out his wand; Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "I'm going to discuss a few personal things with her and I'd rather you guys not listen in." He managed to blush convincingly.

Kingsley grinned. "Go ahead."

Harry muttered a few incantations as he stepped through the door, closing it behind him. The spells took effect in the room made of stone with tiled flooring. It was twenty square feet with a sink, toilet, and bed, illuminated by a magic light above. Harry ignored the raven-haired girl on the bed while he sent further spells into the walls and floor.

"What are you—"

Harry looked to her and smiled. Recognition came. She began to scream, trying in vain to get as far away as possible. The wall stopped her efforts.

_Kill her! Make her pay! Reap revenge!_ The images of her studious face, as pain ran rampant through his body, came to the forefront of his mind. The long hours of enjoying each other's company at Hogwarts vied for his attention. _That was all fake!_

_Not to me, it wasn't! _

_ She tortured you!_

_ Do I want to die alone?_

_ There are others! _

_ Who else is there but her? Can I tell Hermione about my dark thoughts? Ginny? Luna?_

Daphne stopped screaming as she saw the emotions pass through Harry's face, much too quickly to be normal. It was then she realized this is what she had helped create.

Harry finally mastered himself, bidding both consciouses to silence. He addressed her. "I see you figured it out."

"It wasn't hard, not after what you did to my godmother." Her voice quaked, but anger laced it. She still recalled the body of Bellatrix Lestrange being ravaged by the massive stone golem.

Harry chuckled. "She deserved so much worse, but I didn't have much time." He leaned against the door and examined her. Gone was the make-up, styled nails, and hair. Replaced by dirt and ragged clothing. "Why now?" He asked changing the subject. "Why did you crawl out the hole you'd hidden in?"

She refused to answer, thinking this some twisted game before her death. She may not be far from the mark.

Harry laughed, the answer to his question obvious. "You hid with Draco, didn't you? And when he didn't show back up, you thought I'd gotten him." He grinned, remembering that delicious death. "You were right to think him dead."

She shuddered and he enjoyed her fear immensely. His mood was fouled by his next thought. _That is why she is perfect for love! She knows everything about you! There will be no secrets between you!_ The thought of loving someone else still held little appeal to him. The dark voice spoke. _Fine, fall in love, and the moment she turns her back, she'll kill you. Kill her before then! Coat the walls with her blood._

The idea held appeal, and a twisted grin conquered his face. Daphne's voice hitched, unable to look at him. "You're here to kill me." She managed at last. She gave a weary sigh of resignation. Tears crowded her eyes as she fought to keep them back, but the thought of dying was too prevalent. Did she have this coming? Did she deserve to die at his hands? The answer was no, because she held no remorse for what she had done.

Harry raised his wand, but the smile faltered. With a cry of rage, he began pacing the small room, muttering to himself. Daphne, confused, caught only a few words. Kill. Love. Bleed. Die alone. Suddenly, he stopped, a cool mask replacing his changing expressions. Daphne tried not to shudder, knowing then just how unstable he was. "Yes and no."

"W-what?"

"I haven't decided if I'm going to kill you."

She was shocked, and his pacing made sense to her. He was battling with himself. This gave her hope, but she did not know how to capitulate on it. "Why don't you want to kill me?" She feared the answer.

He scowled and looked to be on the verge of losing control again. "I don't want to die alone." He shook his head quickly. "No, that's not it. I want to have sex." His voice had become strained. "That's not it, either!" He groaned and brought a hand to his head. He closed his eyes and swayed, struggling with his inner demons; their voices had risen to thunderous levels.

Daphne stared at his wand for a long moment. She bolted from the bed and tackled him, her hand gripping the focus. They went down in a tumble of limbs, both trying to throw the other off. "Get back!" He snarled. There was a bang and a flash.

Daphne was lifted off him and thrown against the wall. A painful cried was ripped from her mouth as she dropped to the ground, winded and bruised. She looked up to see Harry once more collected and calm, a saddened look on his face.

"That was a mistake." He whispered the incantation to the pain-curse. She screamed.

Her agonized wails again awoke the dark voice of his conscious, the whispers coating his mind. Harry batted them aside, finally able to quiet both consciouses. No longer would his indecision in this matter allow them a foothold on his actions. After a time he canceled the spell and levitated the girl back to the bed. There she whimpered for a moment.

"I've come to a decision." She looked up, fearful eyes gazing at his wand. "You get to live." She sighed with relief, but stiffened when she thought he could still torture her. "Oh, do lose the pity act, I'm not going to hurt you anymore. Unless, you deserve it." She nodded dumbly, trying to collect herself; she was not going to correct him on his assumption. She was not acting terrified, she really was.

"What are you going to do?"

"That depends on you. You see, I'm at a crossroads, that's why I almost lost control. I didn't know what to do to you. Now, I do. But, I'd like your input in the matter."

She sat up on the bed and smoothed her hair, the action settling her fear. "Okay."

He smiled. "I'm going to give you a choice. Neither is great, but what you did to me wasn't, either. Your first choice is to go along with your original plan and be convicted and sent to Azkaban. There you'll spend a few days at the mercy of the dementors before I raid it and kill every single Death Eater in there; that would include you."

Her mouth fell slack at the revelation. "You're going to attack it?"

"Yeah, and I'm going to get away with it. Now, moving on to your second option." He grinned. "I personally like this one the best. I use my considerable clout with the Ministry to get you off innocent, despite your confessions and crimes."

She gave a contemptible laugh. "Just how will you do that?"

"Tell them you only confessed so you could hide in Azkaban because you were afraid of the DE-Killer. Tell them you only helped capture me because you were coerced and that during my captivity you were the one that kept me sane."

She blinked owlishly for a moment. "They'd believe that?" She could not keep the hope from her voice. _I could get away free?_

"Why wouldn't they? Especially, after I tell them about what we had at Hogwarts. How we began dating and fell in love, and that all you want is to be protected from the DE-Killer. Something the Chosen-One can easily provide."

"But, you're the DE-Killer!"

He chuckled. "Well, yeah, but they're not going to know that."

She sat in silence, staring at the grin on his face. "There's more to this option, isn't there?"

He nodded. "Oh, yes. I'm not going to let you run around free." His face darkened. "Not after what you did to me. There's a price for me letting you live."

She swallowed nervously. "What's the price?"

"Marry me."

"That's it? Marry you?" A small ounce of hope bloomed.

He laughed suddenly and dashed her expectations. "It won't be a traditional marriage. I should correct you on that right now. I'll be the man of the house and you'll be the woman, who does what she's told and goes where she's told. There will be a few stipulations…you won't try to poison me, harm me, or tell anyone my secrets."

She gave him a derisive look. "You want a slave is what you want."

"Not quite, but a guess the term could apply. You do as you're told and you get to live a long and healthy life with a wealthy husband. That's not bad when compared to dying a horrible death in a few days." She shuddered as she recalled the first option. "Remember, you did torture me for a while, and to be honest, this is me taking it easy on you. I could capture you and make you scream in agony for the next sixty years. A part of me kind of wants that anyway."

"What's to stop you from doing that to me as your wife?"

"Nothing but my word. However, I'll add the stipulation that I won't torture, maim, or kill you if that'll make you feel better."

Daphne closed her eyes, not liking the option any better, but smart enough to realize there was not much choice. "Why? Why me? Why go to all this?"

Harry's pleasant demeanor fell away. "You know me, better now than anyone else. For that I should kill you, but somewhere in my skull is the pathetic little boy I used to be, yearning for something deeper in life. A partner." He looked to the floor. "It wants love and romance and a family, all the things I didn't get as a boy." He paused and looked to her. "I don't want any of those, but deep down I do. So, you're the compromise. I get a wife and he shuts the hell up!" He nearly shouted the last, but contained himself at the end. The two consciouses were starting to get to him again.

Resigned, she sighed. "Alright. I agree."

"Great, it's time to put on your happy face! If you want to leave, you're going to have to act relieved and in love with me." His features grew severe. "You did it once, so I imagine you can do it again."

She suppressed her fear rising and offered him a bright smile. "I'm so happy you've come to save me." Her voice lowered. "I was so afraid." As she spoke, it became much easier to slip into the role of a grateful woman.

Harry nodded his head in appreciation. "You sound convincing. Muck it up and you die. I'll not take any chances."

She suppressed the shaking in her hands and stood. She calmly walked over and gave him an endearing hug. She paused and breathlessly, gave him a kiss on the cheek. It was then she realized, she was still terrified. He placed his hand around her waist and swished his wand around the cell, canceling the wards he had placed. He opened the door and pocketed his wand. Daphne managed to drape herself around Harry, clinging to him like her life depended on it. Inside, she shivered, but a relieved smile hung on her face.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was leaning against the wall, as he watched the pair emerge. A doubtful face transformed into one of surprise when he saw the Harry's happy glow. For a moment, he was unsure what to say, until finally, "I take it things went well."

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

Daphne glanced to the floor, looking ashamed. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time, sir, but…" she shivered and Harry drew her closer. She looked the Auror in the eye. His features softened when he saw her shimmering eyes. "I was terrified. I didn't know what else to do, where to go," she whispered. "Everyone was against me."

Kingsley slumped his shoulders as he bought the sad tale. "I'm just glad Harry came along and cleared this up." He brought a hand to his head, the two teens clutching each other making any lingering doubts fall away. "The paper work's going to be rough." He paused, thinking. "I'll need to run this by Scrimgeour and the Prophet is going to have to be told." He frowned. "This won't be easily cleared up, Harry."

The younger man nodded, resolute. "I understand. I'll do whatever it takes to clear her name. Just," he held his hand up, "tell the Prophet I'll do one interview but _not_ with Rita. You think I should talk to the Minister?"

Kingsley nodded. "That would help."

"Let's go, then." Harry made a gesture for the Auror to lead the way.

"I'm not sure if he's…"

"I don't care. I saved his country, so he can make time for me and mine."

The Auror smiled, he himself had no great soft spot for politicians. As much as he respected the ex-Auror's abilities, it was obvious he made a better politician. "Just follow me. I would suggest that Miss Greengrass stay here in the cell. It'd look odd if she were to follow you around."

Harry's grip on her tightened when she stiffened. He rubbed her back and she relaxed. _She's really good at this._ "No. She's had enough of cells. She's not going back in."

The Auror frowned. "Then can you do some wand work on her face? Daphne Greengrass _does not _need to be walking through the Ministry free, regardless if the boy-who-lived is with her."

Harry saw the Auror was going to be stubborn on this part, but his suggestion was a good one. He removed his wand and stepped back. With a keen eye he cleaned up her appearance, transfigured her robes into something more casual. He touched her face and saw it morph into something a bit less attractive. "Give her red robes." Harry complied with the suggestion. Kingsley offered his own touch by giving her a facsimile badge. Harry glanced to her dark tresses and changed them to blonde.

"Much better." Kingsley said. "Try not to cling to him and follow me. It'll look like you're my assistant."

With the touches done, they were off, taking a more indirect route back to the DMLE, passing different guards on the way back so as not to raise suspicions. "This is risky what we're doing, but I'm sure Scrimgeour will understand." He chuckled. "Besides, I'll just mention I wasn't going to try and stop you."

The meeting did not go well. The Minister blustered about the process of law, at which point Harry drew his wand. "I don't care about your process. I just care what happens to Daphne, and I'm telling you what's _not_ going to happen. Either help me or get out of my way." From there the meeting went more smoothly, with Scrimgeour acquiescing where he could. To sweeten the deal for the Minister, Harry said he would publically lend his support if the Minister ever found himself in need of it.

A few hours later both parties gave amended statements, and from there the charges were dropped. The rumors began to circulate through the Ministry that Daphne was innocent, but no one gave an official statement until Harry and Daphne were well out of the Ministry, flying high above the air under his invisibility cloak. Harry had left the details of the pending interview with the Daily Prophet in Scrimgeour's hands. He disliked the notion, but saw the necessity of 'pleasing the masses,' as the Minister had put it.

There was one other thing to settle before the day was done. He needed to make sure Daphne held up her side of the bargain. For that, he needed a third person for the Unbreakable Vow. No one he knew would consent to help him bind Daphne to the vows he had in mind, but the person in question did not necessarily have to do it with their consent. For that he would need someone with a wand and a weak-mind.

He found Ron, after making a quick trip to the Burrow, conveniently outside flying around a new broom, the Nimbus had been a present from Harry.

"What're we doing here?" Daphne asked from behind him. Both were hidden under his cloak.

"Finding a third person."

It took a moment for realization to dawn. "The Unbreakable Vow," she whispered. He nodded. "He'll agree to help you?" She gestured with her head towards Ron.

Harry smiled. "Not willingly."

Daphne grew quiet as Harry maneuvered his broom close to Ron's, easily keeping pace. "_Imperio._" There was a moment of confusion as he felt his will placed over his best friend's. Resistance was there, but nothing Harry could not quash.

In flight Ron's body stiffened, and he slowed. _Fly out to the woods, where the pond's at._ Ron angled away from the house, flying off towards the north, to the very edge of the house wards. Anything beyond that and the neighbors would see them flying. Harry followed with a subdued Daphne. "You're not going to wait till the wedding?"

He laughed derisively. "I'm not taking any chances with you. In a few minutes you'll be bonded to me, but to make everyone else happy we can have a big wedding." He tried to sound enthused.

She sneered at him. "I can't wait."

"You've never wanted to plan your own wedding, even down to the napkins?" He asked mockingly.

She looked down, a hurt expression on her face. "Yes, I have dreamed of it. I just didn't think I'd be a slave instead of a wife."

He snorted. "Get used to it, bitch. You brought it on yourself. But, if you really want you can plan the wedding down to the smallest detail. I frankly don't care one way or another. Only rule is: I'm not wearing pink."

Her expression became guarded for a moment, her understanding of their future relationship growing. "You don't care?"

Harry laughed. "No, it's a wedding."

Daphne shook her head. "No, you don't care if we have one?"

Again, he shook his head, wondering if he had overestimated her intelligence. "No, I don't care."

"Maybe…maybe this won't be so bad after all." There seemed to be some hope in her voice.

Harry's response had to wait as he and Ron landed by the pond. He quickly ordered Ron to stand by the water.

He turned to his fiancé. "You're telling me all it takes is us having a wedding to make you happy?" Was what he said, what he thought was, _Are you that stupid?_

She glared at him and pulled some of her blond hair behind her ear, Harry had yet to reverse the magic. "No, it won't be so bad because I'll be able to do things."

"Yeah, remember the part where I said slave was not the best way to describe it?"

"Yes, but when faced with death or non-consensual marriage, I'm sorry if I thought the worst of the situation. Don't forget you did mention _killing _and _torturing_ me a couple times." She blew out a breath to calm herself, she had not forgotten who she was addressing.

Instead of angry, he only laughed. He raised his wand and pointed it at her face. She paled. "Finite."

She almost fainted with relief as she felt the magic melting away from her features, revealing her smooth skin, blue eyes, and raven locks. "Actually…" Harry twirled his wand and she felt something trickle down her hair.

She moved some in front of her face and frowned. "Blonde?"

"Yes, I think you look much better with it. Do you disagree?"

She eyed his wand. "Do I have a choice?"

"In this matter, yes."

She sighed, wary of saying no regardless. "I'll try it. I might even grow to like it." She glanced down to her red robes and compared them to the black ones Harry wore.

As Harry walked by the pond, a dark memory flitted across his mind. Him bound as Daphne practiced a cutting curse across his body. It ended with her accidentally slicing open his neck. He paused, anger worming through his body. He cast her a dark look, causing her to fidget nervously.

_I haven't sworn the Unbreakable Vow yet._

_I promised not to harm her in the marriage._

_ She would deserve it._ The last thought, heralded from his darker conscious held sway and two cold, green eyes narrowed.

"W-what're you doing?"

"Pay back for what you did to me."

"You promised…"

He waved his wand and silenced her. "I've sworn nothing yet, so a little fun beforehand isn't a problem; for me at least. Remember, you deserve so much worse."

Daphne hesitated a second before bolting, her wand coming out and sending a hex his way. He batted it away and cast _levicorpus_. Dangling in the air, she struggled, her voice muffled by robes hanging over her head. Carefully, Harry maneuvered her over the pond, then submerged her to her waist. Her pale legs kicked frantically, before falling still. Puzzled, Harry regarded her, it was too soon for her to be out of breath.

He raised her up and saw a bubble-head charm surrounding her head, pushing the sodden fabric out of the way. With a vicious snarl he ripped the wand from her grasp and canceled the charm. Satisfied, he dunked her once more, watching with a smile as she struggled, submerged. Her legs kicked the air with unmolested frenzy, while her arms moved erratically in the water. Their movements slowed with time, until her legs began to droop. Finally, her body lay limp and unmoving.

Deigning she was unconscious, or close to it, he removed her from the water and lay her on the ground. She was out cold. A spell later had her on her knees retching up water, pale and disquieted. Harry circled her like a vulture, an obscene smile plastered to his face.

With a few delicate motions of his focus he had her dried and returned to her former dignity. Then he raised his wand, her body rose into the air mirroring the motion, and he tossed her against a nearby tree.

She cried in pain, and winced when she struck the ground. Harry giggled and repeated the motion, this time sending her skimming across the surface of the pond into a rock on the far side. He made his way there, looking down at her bruised and bleeding features. Frowning at what he saw, he went to repair the damage, for the final treatment he wanted her looking beautiful and unblemished. Hoisting her into the air, he removed her clothing and inspected where the skin had been marred and bones broken. Easily recalling the dark memories and Bellatrix's spells, he healed the damage and once more returned her dignity.

Her clothes reappeared and her dulled eyes came alive with horror.

"That look seems familiar to me," Harry said, tapping the tip of his wand against his lip. "Oh yes, it was the one I wore as you practiced on me." His face darkened. "Do you remember how that session ended?"

She shook her head.

"I do. It went something like this." Carefully, he placed his wand at the side of her neck. Pausing, he spoke. "Remember now?" Pale and shivering her answer had not changed. "Pity." Though, there was none in his voice. He slowly drew his wand across her neck ending at the other side. Where it touched a thin slice was made, and red liquid poured forth. Stepping back, he smiled, reveling in the satisfaction it brought him. _It would be a shame if I vowed to never do this again._

_There is no one else but her._

The thought was sobered. He recalled the compromise he had made earlier with himself. Glancing to her crying face and slack jaw, he was still unrepentant in his actions. She deserved far worse, but he did not wish to be hampered for the rest of his life by the stupid little boy he had been; that still resided in his mind.

With a sigh, he drew his wand across the wound and healed it. A later flick cleaned the blood from her robes and restored her to her feet. She collapsed instantly, a bundle on the ground weeping and clutching herself. "You promised." She managed between sobs.

"I said unless you deserved it; which you did. Now stand-up, I'm not going to spend the afternoon watching you cry."

She struggled into a sitting position, but the tears refused to stop. Harry heaved a sigh and walked away, settling himself onto a rock by the pond, not too far from Ron, who had watched the proceedings with vacant eyes. Harry consoled himself to waiting, hoping Daphne would not take too long to compose herself. He wondered how much blood she had lost. It could not have been a lot since she only bled for a few seconds.

In time she stood, pale and a little shaky. With reticence she approached him, a question leaving her tongue. "Will you ever do that again?" Her voice shook.

Harry gave her a steady look. "Not after the Vow."

She stood muted a moment, her reluctance to proceed obvious. Harry rolled his eyes and jumped to his feet. "Ready?" She was not, but it did not matter. Harry extended his arm and she entwined her own with his. Together they approached Ron, who was staring at the cloudy noon sky. _Ready your wand Ron and hold it out. Open yourself to the spell. Imagine you are an anchor for the following vows._

Ron bid as he was told, raising his wand and concentrating.

"Have you ever done this?" he asked her.

She shook her head.

He withheld a sigh. "It's not hard. All you have to do is take my words and bind them to Ron's wand, who will then bind them to me." She looked befuddled and that time he did sigh. He tried to recall if she had been a fast learner with Bellatrix, but the memories escaped him. Strange since earlier he could recall with ease. He shrugged and pressed on. "Have you ever cast a speak-fast charm on someone?"

She thought for a moment. "Yes."

"Good. Remember how you have to concentrate on their words and not their tongue?"

She nodded. "I remember it confused me since I thought it involved charming the tongue."

"Right. Well, close to that, save just focus on the vow and magically linking it to Ron's wand. Think you can do it? Otherwise, I'll not make my vow to never torture, maim or kill you." He gave her a gruesome smile. "I wouldn't mind repeating what I did earlier, to be perfectly honest."

His smile was incentive enough for her to draw her wand. She drew a breath. "Okay, I'm ready."

Harry held up his hand and they twined their fingers together. A moment later the ritual began.

"I, Harry Potter, hereby vow to never torture, maim, or kill Daphne Greengrass. Do you accept my vow?" She drew a breath.

"I do." A golden string sprouted from Ron's wand and wrapped delicately around their joined fingers.

Harry began to speak, and Daphne repeated after him. "I, Daphne Greengrass, hereby vow to never raise a hand against Harry Potter. To never poison, harm, or kill him. To do my best to protect him where I can. I hereby vow to do as he bids, be obedient to his will, and to never let any of his secrets pass from me to another." She blinked back tears. "Do you accept my vows?"

Harry remembered those blues eyes from another place and what felt like another time. Then they were filled with lies and deception, but here before him they held nothing but the naked truth. "I do."

Her shoulders slumped as a red string of energy sprouted from Ron's wand and wrapped gently around their hands. Harry sent one last thought to Ron. _Release the vows to the opposite person._

Ron obeyed. The golden strand broke free and disappeared into Daphne's chest as the red one did to Harry's. For a moment both were dizzy from the effects, but the feeling passed.

Harry turned to his best mate and sent him on his way, canceling the _Imperio _and adding a memory charm to keep his silence. He turned to Daphne. "How about a kiss?"

"No, but do I have a choice?" There was a dark humor in her voice.

Harry looked to the heavens, feigning thought. "No, you don't." He stepped forward and entered her embrace. Their lips met, his greedy, hers hesitant. They broke apart and Harry decided they would spend the afternoon by the pond, himself defining her role in their relationship. Neither pleased nor relieved, Daphne listened and prepared herself for the rest of her life.

And so it was on a beautiful, sunny day, that Harry Potter, clad in shadow and capped with darkness, and Daphne Greengrass, swathed in blood and crowned in gold, joined as one.

* * *

**a/n:: **To me, this is one of the cornerstones of the fic, and what the romance tag was based on. Very non-traditional if I do say so myself. I'm personally pretty proud of it, grammar that I know I missed notwithstanding. However, I'm personally biased. I'm asking any reviews to let me know if this passed muster. Did I manage to pull this off convincingly, or can everybody see the stitching that holds it together? Kind of nervous to the response, and I feel this can make or break the fic for many.

Tell me your thoughts if you wish. Thx again for reading.

-byl, ouy.


	10. Chapter 10: A Distorted Arrangement

Now in the home stretch.

**The Lies the Bind**

**Chapter 10: A Distorted Arrangement**

Above, the clouds loomed, foreboding and deadly, with flashes of light sparking between them. The stars and moon were hidden from view as a party of ten Aurors and three prisoners flew above calm waters. Five of the Aurors were positioned on brooms surrounding a large flying carpet, where upon the prisoners sat in chains. They looked nervous and scared, not by the destination they were heading, Azkaban, but by the time it took to get there. Two more Aurors flew behind while two more flew ahead. The last was a mile in front, scouting the way ahead for danger.

Before the recent upgrades in security to Azkaban, there were three ways to the island. Through the floo-network, a portkey, or by broom. Two of those methods had been eliminated, making the only way in over the sea.

The broomriders in front flew in sync, their eyes watching the sky and waves. A spell existed between them so their words could be heard over the sound of the wind. "You hear about Yaxley last night?" Asked the leader to the junior officer.

"Yaxley? No, I didn't. I thought he had been transported to Paris? Trying to sniff out the Death Eater presence there, right?" Responded the younger man.

"Yep. He made it, and they caught a couple people, but nothing along what they had feared. He didn't make it back, though."

"What? I didn't hear about that in the paper."

The leader of the expedition chuckled. "They're trying to keep it secret. Don't want the public to get wind of it, yet." His voice lowered. "When everyone portkeyed back to the ministry, the only thing that came through of Yaxley's was his head."

The other man's eyes widened. "The DE-Killer again?" He whistled. "He's one piece of work." They both glanced back to their cargo. In the past few days, since Daphne Greengrass' pardon, over a dozen Death Eaters had come forward, confessing to gruesome crimes. Many begged to be placed in Azkaban, among that lot these three. Five had already been successfully transported, leaving these three and two others still held in custody at the Ministry.

"How many Death Eaters do you think there were?" the junior officer asked.

His officer answered. "I'd say about sixty altogether."

"That many?" He sounded awed. "There were already a dozen or so in Azkaban, plus this next dozen. How many more are out there?"

His commander smiled gruesomely and turned to him. "A dozen were killed in that last battle involving Voldemort, so that accounts for thirty-six. Remember how some people have been disappearing lately? No bodies and such?" The younger man nodded. "I think a few of them were Death Eaters."

The man did the math. "So…that's all of them. What we have and what's in Azkaban already?"

"Maybe one or two still lose, but basically."

The conversation lulled and the party flew in silence for a time. The trip took a total of five hours; they were not taking a direct route, but one of four possible ones, and it was always the patrol leader's choice which to take.

The leader frowned as he spotted something up ahead. It looked to be a giant spider web attached to the clouds, where a man and a broom were dangling from. As they neared, they saw the crimson robes of an Auror. "Keep flying!" The leader barked. "Stetson," he called to one of the men in the back. The man flew forward. "Take Jung and Horatio and see if you can get Marley untangled."

The man flew back to the rear and recounted the orders. Three broomriders left the formation and approached the web that had ensnared the scout.

The junior officer noted they were now down four companions. "Do you think that's a wise idea?"

"Yes. I'm not leaving one of our own dangling over the ocean while we escort these scumbags to safety. Besides, they'll catch up with us in time." He paused in thought. "Let's take her down to ocean-level, just in case there are any more of those spider webs."

As one they lowered, the carpet followed the junior officer's motions. He was the Anchor to it, and in case of an ambush, he was the one who was supposed to fly onward.

For a time salt sprayed up from the gently moving waves, wetting their faces. The junior officer was growing nervous, his eyes checking the darkness for any sign of trouble. He flinched when one of the men from the back came upon him. "What?"

The man held his wand to this throat. "I'm not trying to complain or anything…but we've been smelling something bad back there for most of the trip. It's coming from the carpet."

"What's it smell like?"

"Fish."

"So?"

The man looked about nervously. "Ever since that web thing we saw, we thought maybe it's a problem. I mean, how often does a carpet smell like fish?" His voice rose.

The senior officer butted in. "Stop being so paranoid! If the carpet was a giant trap then I'm sure it would have exploded by now. Now get back in formation!"

Cowed, the rear-guardsmen left the front, still scared out of his mind. None there wanted to get between the DE-Killer and his prey.

Suddenly, a whistle came from the junior officer's robes. He pulled out the mirror that kept him in contact with the Ministry. He canceled the spell between him and the senior officer and recast it to the mirror. The sound of the wind died. "Rawlings here."

A shaky voice responded. "I-is Officer Lerriby leading the mission." A bald and frightened face filled the mirror. "I mean is he flying next to you?" The man held his breath.

Rawlings looked to the left and verified the man's presence. Confused, he responded. "Yes, he's right here. Do you want to talk to him?"

"Oh, Merlin." The man whispered, then recalled the question. "No! Don't tell him! Listen _very carefully_."

Rawlings was curious. "Okay."

"We found Officer Lerriby tied-up in his office with his hair shaved an hour ago."

The junior officer quickly did the math. They had been flying for three hours. Cold dread settled into his stomach and it took him a moment to find his voice. "What should I do? We're already down four members."

"Why?" Came the man's cry.

"Our scout got caught in a web, and he sent three members to untangle him." He paused. "Are you _sure_ the man you found is Lerriby?"

"We're pretty sure. Ask the man next to you how his wife is."

Rawlings switched the spells again. "Hey, Lerriby, sir. How's the wife doing?"

The man smiled easily. "Pretty good. Wish she would quiet nagging me about working so many late nights." He chuckled. "She's been spending most of her time at her cousin's place. I don't blame her, being in that old house all alone."

Rawlings sighed in relief. He addressed the mirror, after switching the spells again. "He says she's fine, visiting with a cousin."

The man paled. "He isn't married."

"Oh…" The fear returned twofold, and it took some effort for him to keep his hands from shaking. There flying beside him was the DE-Killer disguised as his leader. "W-what do I do?"

"Okay. Are you any good at casting portkeys?"

"Some. Where do you want me to send him? It has to be a place I've been before." He shrugged. "Like I said, I'm not that good."

"Send him to the Ministry's Atrium. Give us about ten minutes before—" the voice was cut off as chaos erupted from the water.

A giant serpent, stretching some two hundred meters, rose into the air, its long snout, laced with vicious teeth, snapping at the flyers. Screams and shouts were heard as they desperately flew to avoid its maul. Two in the back flew low, only to be greeted by the leviathan's tale. The force sent them reeling into the waves.

"Protect the prisoners at all costs! Protect the prisoners!" The imposter was shouting, while sending cutting hexes against the beast. A few landed, and it roared in pain. Rawlings collected himself and remembered the original plan. He gripped his broom and let the magic fly. Like a comet, he jetted away, leaving the scene behind him. His was the only firebolt issued broom among the lot. He was also an accomplished broomrider, having turned down a chaser's job to become an Auror. Those two put together meant he could outstrip almost anyone.

He glanced back to check on the prisoners, only to find they were not following him. "Where…" His confusion was only momentary when he realized what had happened. Somehow, the imposter had switched the anchoring spell from Rawlings onto himself. Cursing his own shortsightedness, he turned around and shot back towards the serpent.

As he neared his stomach sank at what he saw. There, dangling from a rope and hanging off a large hook, were the three Death Eaters; the carpet was wrapped snugly about them. It took a moment for the junior officer to realize the men had been impaled on the hook through their chests. Their screams of agony increased as the serpent, lured by the scent off the carpet, snatched them up in jaws with one bite. The hook was then set into the serpent's cheek, and the imposter, with the rope tied to his broom, began wrestling with the leviathan.

Rawlings was speechless. He observed the imposter, laughing, swing back and forth, trying to force the serpent one way then another. The beast chopped with its mouth, attempting to dislodge the embedded hook. It had no luck, but it did cause the hapless Death Eaters to be diced into pieces by its vicious teeth. Rawlings lost his lunch when those bits flew from the mouth and splashed into the sea below. He desperately looked around for any other Aurors, but their absence added to his fear.

He eyed the scene once more before shaky resolve formed and he pulled out his wand. _I'm not ready for this._ He flew forward and launched a severing spell at the rope. It struck but had no effect. It did alert the imposter to his presence. Soon a bevy of spells was coming his way and only through skill with his broom was he able to survive. Until a large web came for him. "_Incendio!_" It had no effect.

At the last moment, he tried to flee, but it enveloped him. The more he struggled the more it constricted. Within seconds he was falling towards the water, his concentration on flying broken by pain. As salt water rushed to fill his lungs, he saw the flying figure leading the giant serpent away.

* * *

Living with a murderer was not as difficult as Daphne had first thought. He came and went as he pleased, sometimes not even bothering to say hello. He kept odd hours, sleeping in the morning and evening. During the day he visited with his friends, sometimes taking her along for appearance's sake, and sometimes just to run a few errands. At night, he would venture out and continue his crusade against her ex-fellows. She really felt little remorse at their deaths, but she did feel sad at what she had lost when the Dark Lord had died.

Harry's recent exploit two nights gone had gotten the biggest reaction so far, considering he had jeopardized the lives of innocent Aurors. The spectacle of him fishing with Death Eaters, hooking a two hundred meter leviathan with them, was the talk of the entire Wizarding World. Some people lambasted the Ministry for failing to provide protection for its criminals, while others laughed at the incident. Most, though, were beginning to see the threat the DE-Killer posed, because he could kill indiscriminately.

This was no more apparent than when Harry had introduced her to his closest friends; Ron and Hermione. With Hermione it had been apologies and affirmations of getting to know her. "I had no idea you had been forced into it. I'm so sorry! If Harry had told us, we would not have thought so terribly of you."

Ron was interesting in that he still held doubts about her, regardless of her acting and Harry's words. That just affirmed what she thought of him: he was an idiot. It was his views on the DE-Killer that she thought interesting. Harry had explained how happy Ron had been that someone was finally giving it to the Death Eaters like they deserved. Until, one of his family had been caught in the crossfire of the last attack. The junior officer, Rawlings, who was a 'damn fine flyer,' was apparently a cousin of his.

Thinking of family reminded her of her own's reaction to her plans. She had always been honest with them about wanting to be a Death Eater; especially, when her godmother had come knocking. They themselves were too cautious to throw their entire support behind Voldemort; they had seen him fall once before, but they did not hold her back from her dream. They had cautioned her about rushing in, but she had bid their views no mind.

Now, she came back to them dating her Dark Lord's vanquisher. It had not set well. She had turned to lying in order to keep their support. The story she fed them had been simple and similar to what Harry told Kingsley Shacklebolt. Fearing for her life, she turned herself in, hoping to get into Azkaban, like what most of the Death Eaters were currently doing. Harry showed up out of nowhere, begging to know if what they had in Hogwarts was true love. Daphne explained to them that she told Harry she had been forced to do those horrible things to him by her godmother as punishment for loving him. Harry had been convinced of her true feelings and talked her way out of the jail.

Her family had been convinced and even congratulated her on her cunning. After that Harry met her family and was welcomed with open arms. Her father had hinted at a marriage, which Harry had made no commitment to. "Me and Daphne are going to take it slow for now. We've both been through a traumatic time and don't want to rush things. Maybe, once this whole mess has settled we'll think on it."

Her mother had innocently asked if there were any children involved yet. Daphne's reply was a succinct, "No."

The very thought of having children with Harry terrified her. Not the giving birth part, which she was not thrilled about, but him _raising_ them. She thought she could do a decent job of it, but he was out of his mind.

Memories came unbidden from her mind of the day they took their oaths together. How he had just tossed her about, drowning, bruising, and slicing her. Every now and then she would be forced to huddle in a corner and hold herself, until the dark thoughts drifted away. When with him, it was difficult to forget what he could do, the sense of feeling her life drain away from a cut in her neck was an especially difficult one to forget, but she managed. She suppressed a shudder and forced the thoughts away; she did not want to breakdown again, and it was best not to dwell and better to pretend it never happened.

She instead focused her mind on cleaning more of the dark room. Their current place of residence was Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Most of the main rooms had been cleared by Harry and his friends the summer of his fifth year, but a few of the other rooms were still in horrible condition.

Sirius had expanded the original efforts as well, but Kreacher, Harry believed, had reversed some of those. Daphne shuddered again, recalling the house-elf's fate and the ensuing argument. For his part in Sirius Black's death, Harry had ordered the house-elf to commit suicide in the most horrible way Kreacher could think of. The elf's remains had been left in the living room, below a plaque that read: Here lies my retribution.

"I don't want to stare at a rotting carcass for the rest of my life!"

"I don't care what you get to stare at. The bugger deserved it and I'd like to remember it."

That had been the start of their shouting match.

"You're not the only one that lives here! Don't I get a say in it? Especially, when it comes to dead bodies?"

For a moment, she was afraid she had overstepped his boundaries; until, he sighed and backed down. "I'll get rid of it." Had been his quiet response, his eyes promising pain.

For hours afterward she waited for him to seek retribution against her, but it never came, much to her relief and confusion.

She waved her wand and began to clear away the cobwebs, catching the spiders that tried to run away as well. As she got them into a ball, she banished them into a large metal chest, where a quick flash of fire vaporized them. Next, she made sweeping motions with her wand, whispering, "_Dust it_." Not a very complicated spell, but one her mum had taught her. She had been taught the basics of a household, how to clean and the like. She directed the dust into the chest as well.

She recalled Harry's words about her role in the relationship. "I like food and a clean house. Since, I was a child that's all I did. Now that I have you, I don't ever want to do it again. So you get to clean and cook. You know, what a wife's supposed to do." His sexist comment had not gone unchallenged, but her response only caused him to laugh.

She decided the room was finally done, seeing as how the furniture had been removed and shrunk and the walls cleaned. She was not going to bother cleaning the furniture, it was dreadful looking anyway, replacing it would be much easier. For now, she was going to eat. While she was at it, she would get his lunch ready for when he returned from the Ministry. The interview with the Daily Prophet was today. The Minister had insisted she attend, but Harry corrected him of that view. "She's been through too much already."

She scoffed. _You just don't trust me, yet._ Not that he had any reason to; she had tried to think of a way out of her vows, but so far no luck.

She entered the kitchen and set to work. She was no culinary master so went for Hippogrif pie and a salad for a side. She poured herself some icewine, Magdelane's Best, to help herself relax. She readied some for Harry, knowing how much he despised doing the interview. He had bitched about it enough during the past few days.

It was there sipping on her wine, waiting for her fiancé to return, that a moment of reflection seized her. Of childhood days running around with her sister on little ponies, while their mother watched from a distance. Her father always giving them wonderful presents and a letting them kiss him on his bearded cheek. How her godmother had come for her one night with promises of glory. The year of planning and the final pay-off; Harry Potter's capture. How the greatest moment of her life had been receiving the mark now emblazoned on her arm. Then everything had come tumbling down.

In the dark basement, she was overjoyed to be taught by Bellatrix, and had not cared what happened to Harry as she learned. Save then, she did not know of Bellatrix's unstable persona, had thought people were only exaggerating. Then she witnessed her madness firsthand, enduring her fatalistic and sadistic side. The moment had been sobering. Afterwards, Bellatrix dismissed her as weak, and the other Death Eaters pounced. Snide remarks and little chuckles, despite her doing what none of them had done.

Then Harry Potter had escaped and killed her godmother along with the Dark Lord. Killed her future. She had bolted, desperate to not get caught, choosing to hide behind Draco. All he had asked were a few favors, something she was more than willing to give. Then rumors of a killer murdering Death Eaters began to circulate. Draco had assured her that the fate could not befall him; he had Albus Dumbledore's protection.

He disappeared and she ran to the Ministry, scared out of her wits. To her, it seemed death hounded her every step, and even waiting in that small cell, she feared the next to open that door would be the DE-Killer.

Oh, how far she had fallen. From rising star among the Death Eaters, to being enslaved by the very man she tortured, and who had visited the same upon her.

Her life was never meant to turn out like this.

She returned the half-empty glass of wine to the table. Slowly, her head fell and tears crawled from her eyes.

In the quiet house of Black, she wept for herself and her lost dreams.

It was to this scene that Harry Potter returned. A cold pie and salad awaited him on the table, next to a sobbing fiancé. He brought a hand to his head and walked from the room, placing his satchel and robes in the drawing room. He returned to find her dabbing the tears from her eyes. She forced a smile. "You're home late."

He did not bother answering. He took a seat and went to eating, trying to ignore her feeble attempts at conversation. Another sob escaped her lips, but she kept the tears back. It was in that awkward moment that they realized nothing about their current arrangement was normal, no matter how hard each tried. He wanted someone to be with that cooked and cleaned and kept him from being lonely. But, he knew the woman before him would as soon slit his throat the first chance she got. The dysfunction had not been apparent till now.

He had been a fool to expect her to just accept her role without reservations.

_It doesn't matter! She deserved this! Take her now and show her what she thinks doesn't matter! _He held his head, fearing another headache coming on. He drained his icewine in one gulp, hoping to curtail it. He truly wished his darker thoughts would not be so loud. He drew a breath and addressed her. "Do you feel better?"

"No."

"I'm out of sympathy for you." He lied, hating himself for feeling sorry for her. _Compassion, my one weakness it seems._ Another hold over from his days before the torture. "You did bring this on yourself."

She looked to the ceiling after looking him in the eye. It was foreign for her to see such emotion there. "I know. I don't have to like it, do I?"

He leaned back. "No, I guess you don't."

Silence fell between them.

"How can you care?" She blurted, her curiosity overcoming her.

"I don't."

"Yes, you do. I can see it. Why else try to comfort me?"

He looked indignant for a moment, but it passed. "Okay, I do on some level."

"Why? It's almost like your two different people." She leaned forward. "One a merciless killer and now this!"

He drew a deep breath. "It's complicated." She could see a coldness creeping into his face, banishing the warmth. "What you're experiencing, and what saved your sorry arse, is a remnant of the Harry you tricked. Remember him, full of love and always wanting to help?" She nodded. He tapped his head. "Well, he's still in there and sometimes he drives me. Now, opposite him, we have the ruthless DE-Killer." He smiled wickedly, and she shivered. "He wants me to get revenge on every single Death Eater, make them pay for what was done to me. He's basically me wanting to externalize all the trauma I suffered at your and Bellatrix's hands." He paused for a moment. "See, it's complicated, but the madness has its meaning."

She slowly shook her head in disbelief. "You're crazy." She whispered. "It sounds like you have two personalities."

He shrugged, not liking being called that. So long as he had control, he was sane. He thought about telling her of Voldemort's memories but dashed that idea. "Doesn't matter what you think, only that you obey."

She stiffened and once more tears threatened her eyes, but she held them back. He groaned. "Please, stop the theatrics. I'm not in the mood for it."

"I'm not acting."

He looked uncomfortable for a moment but returned to his meal. As he finished his salad, Daphne was able to compose herself. "How did the interview go?"

He swallowed a bite. "Well enough," he responded, glad now for the inane chatter. "They asked the general things. Was it true love? Did I know how many hearts I was breaking? Were you the reason I killed the Dark Lord? Once the tripe was done with, the bigger ones came next. What was my opinion of the DE-Killer? Why didn't I speak on your behalf before now? Did I think Azkaban safe? I fed them a few lines and everyone was happy."

He resumed his meal as Daphne stood and began to clean up. Once both were finished she took him to inspect her progress for the day. He marveled at her efficiency.

"Mrs. Wealsey always had the roughest of times getting this place clean." He walked around the spotless room, eyeing the dark green wallpaper with a critical eye.

"I'll give her credit; she got most of the big rooms just fine." She chuckled. "Besides, any little pests there might be in the furniture get roasted. So much easier to just to destroy the little bastards and start anew." She caught his appraising look.

"I like the attitude. What were you planning on doing with this room?"

She shrugged. "Guest bedroom, I think. Unless you want a room to keep your Quidditch supplies?"

He gave her a quizzical expression. "Why would I need a room for my supplies?"

"Uh…for when you went pro?" His confusion prompted her to elaborate. "I just assumed that was what you were going to do with your life. I mean you can't really kill Death Eaters much longer, and you were always amazing on a broom."

He was quiet a moment more. "I don't know. I really haven't planned that far ahead. For now, I have two goals in mind. One is to kill the Death Eaters."

"And the second?"

Should he tell her of the Horcruxes? "I need to finish off a few loose ends that Voldemort left behind."

"Like what?"

Harry cautioned himself, but a revelation struck him. "How close were you to Bellatrix?" He stepped closer to her.

She took a step back. "Very close, until she turned on me." He titled his head to the side and peered closer. "What?" She asked wary.

"She didn't have any children, did she?" She shook her head, growing nervous. "Did she choose you as her successor?"

"Yes, she did."

Harry gave a sudden cry that shocked the young lady. "Perfect." _Now, I don't have to break into Gringott's._ "There's something in her vault that belonged to the founders that I'd like to get my hands on."

"Something Voldemort entrusted to her?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but I'd like it and you're going to help me get it."

"Now?" She asked, not sure of his sudden jovial attitude. _It's just an old relic._

He shook his head and left the room, forcing her to follow him. "No, not right now, but eventually. I first want to finish off the Death Eaters. Then I'll move on to my next project."

"When are you going to hit the jail?" Daphne asked from behind him.

They entered the drawing room. "I have one more trip to make before I'm ready. One of your former brethren thought they could slip the country and escape me. I want to kill him before I move against the jail and finish the rest of the vermin off." Harry took a seat by the fire and brought out an old tome, something he had found among the odds and ends in the house.

Daphne stood a moment before speaking. "There are a few things I need to get at the Alley. Do you need anything?"

Harry waved his hand in her direction. "Not really, go on."

She waited a moment more before clearing her throat. He sighed and looked up from his reading. "Yes?"

"I'd also like to pick-up a House-elf from the trader's."

He gave her a blank stare. "I've known three house-elves and each one has been a basket case. No."

"It'd make getting this place cleaned much easier. And, they'd be able to cook better meals than me." She took a step forward and gave him a provocative pose.

He was unmoved. "I'd like better food but no. Besides, if we were to get one I'd bind it to my blood and not yours."

She saw an opening and took it. "So you do want better food?"

Harry growled. _She plays the part of nagging wife rather well._ "Yes, fine, you can have a damn house-elf, but not today and not until after Azkaban. Can I finish my reading now?"

She gave him a victorious smile. "Sure, I've gotten what I want." With a small chuckle she left the room to collect her things and with a pop she was gone. Harry grunted before going back to his reading. A detailed account of how and why the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black used to dismember Irish wizards before the Statute of Secrecy.

* * *

**a/n::** With the overwhelming response from the last chapter, any fears I have left for this fic have died. There is maybe one more wrinkle in the climax chapter, next week, that I need to iron out, but besides that I'm hopeful. Thanks again for everyone's support in this. I'm not the best writer by far, but I'm working on it.

-byl, out.


	11. Chapter 11: You Were Never Alone

Still on time.

**The Lies that Bind**

**Chapter 11: You Were Never Alone**

The sun had set hours ago. The sky was clear and the stars hung in a dark blue sky, while the moon shone half its light upon the roiling waves below. The ocean stretched for miles, the frothing white of the breaking waves a testament to the emotional nature of the island nearby. Like a corpse floating in a tossing ocean it sat, oppressive and dark in appearance. The island was known only to wizards and witches, for no muggle could find it. Even miles from the island, one could feel dread at approaching it; a feeling fostered by the hundreds of dementors inhabiting the tall structure upon it.

It was built at the turn of the century, when the smaller prisons kept within magical Britain were prone to break outs. With the criminals running rampant the dementor population, before then at record lows, began to increase. The founder of Azkaban saw a golden opportunity and combined both problems, much to the relief of the populace. With the two Great Muggle Wars breaking out soon afterwards, he was lauded with more acclaim, saying he saved the populace even more despair, for in that climate the dementor population would have become unmanageable.

The prison had been built on a rocky island in the Atlantic Ocean, far from anyplace habitable. It was built to look like a giant tower, with walls spanning hundreds of feet into the air. Far below, there was a broken pier and check-in station, but that had fallen out of use decades ago. The only way to access the jail now was through flight.

Harry flew through the air, a sticking charm keeping his invisibility cloak from falling away. The anti-apparition ward had been extended to twenty miles outside the island, with noise-wards ten miles further to go off if anyone apparated in them. Harry had just flown directly from the mainland, avoiding both wards.

The one ward that had given him trouble was one designed to keep everyone out save those that bore an enchanted object. To get around it, he had sought out a patrol. A sudden gust of wind, magically summoned, had thrown them into disarray, and in the confusion Harry had summoned one of the devices; a small sphere made of emerald. Harry was now within sight of the impressive jail and thoroughly dissatisfied with the precautions the Ministry had taken.

The only thing left to counter him would be the dementors, and Harry had plans for them.

He approached the jail's walls carefully, casting a few spells on the ancient stone work. His instincts were confirmed. They were heavily enchanted against cutting, breaking, exploding, or being vanished. There was also an impressive, and newer, spell on them to prevent transfiguration. He smiled to himself. It looked like he would just have to walk in the front door. He flew up towards the landing and stepped off his broom, his arrival going unnoticed. He shrank and pocketed his broom. With this area crawling with Aurors any spellwork he performed on anyone would go noticed.

So he waited for a patrol to return. As a patrol landed, their faces red from the brisk air, they walked towards the locked doors; the only entrance to the jail. Harry was right behind them. He slipped ahead of them, past the five Aurors checking in the patrol, and entered the upper regions of the jail. Up here the dementor presence was kept to a minimum, allowing the ministry officials to work without depression.

After a few direction and mapping spells, cast in a secluded area, Harry made his way towards the stairwell, the only connection between the upper and lower parts of the jail. A staircase that went down twenty stories, guarded by dementors the entire way. Harry hopped onto to his broom and flew down, the dementors resting, interspersed on the stairwell, watching him as went.

At the bottom, he was greeted by a gathering of black-robed beings, their presence turning the air to despair. Harry landed and ripped the cloak off, revealing a wand drawn and pointed in their direction. Like moths to a flame they approached him, their feet whispering on the stone floor. Harry smiled and a white mist came from his wand; a half formed Patronus coalesced around him, armor keeping them and their hunger at bay.

Harry walked forward, causing them to scatter, but he stopped and turned to them. "I'm looking to kill a few prisoners; the Death Eaters," he explained. "I could…give some of them to you, if you'd like. I just need to know where they're at."

He knew they understood people, more through the emotions humans emanated than through speech, and Harry's intentions were quite clear. As one they walked around him, beckoning for him to come with black twisted hands. He smiled and followed.

The days were an endless train of dread and fear. Of a disgust for oneself that built within, rising to the forefront whenever the demons of his nightmares roamed by, supping from his misery while intensifying it. On some long, lonesome nights, he swore he could feel them siphoning the misery from his body, leaving him hollow and listless. Emerging alive from those days always seemed like a blessing, until they made another round, and it took much of his will power to stave off the black despair.

There were no nights here in Azkaban, no windows to show the sun shining, only shadows, both within and without. The only marking of a day going by was the third meal. Sleep sometimes came afterwards. Today had been one of those days, where he had succumbed to sleep. In a rare moment, he did not have nightmares but warm thoughts of his wife and son, of the life left behind. That pain had caused him to awaken, but it was the screams of his fellow inmates that kept him from sleeping again.

He heard muttering and felt the dread of massed Dementors. In groups they chilled the air and froze his bones. Making him fear for the very soul residing in his bosom. He shuddered and began to pace, action could be a shield against the dread.

There was the sound of metal bending, followed by a soul-wrenching scream. A man's voice, casual and relaxed came from outside his cell door soon after. "This is the last one? Through already?"

Lucius Malfoy stopped pacing, feelings of hope surfacing, for the dread-air given off by the dementors had left him. For the first time in months he felt himself again, like some weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Was this a breakout? Had the Dark Lord finally come to free his loyal followers?

The old wooden door shuddered and groaned as it was opened, revealing a thin teenager with a white mist hovering close to his body. Behind, trying to edge closer to him, were a dozen dementors. Lucius was confused, until he saw the lightning-bolt shaped scar and green eyes. "Potter?" He rasped out, his voice not used to speaking.

"Hello, Lucius." Harry gave him a grand bow before walking into the cell, shutting the door behind him, leaving the Dementors to stand in the hall. "How have you been?" he asked.

Incredulous, Malfoy took a seat on his moldy bed. "What's going on?"

Harry leaned against the fall wall, crossing his arms. The cell was roughly ten feet by twelve. "It's rude to ignore a guest's question."

Anger shone through the confusion. "How do you think I've been? I'm in Azkaban!"

Harry gave him a sympathetic look. "I know, and it's partially my fault. You see, that's why I'm here."

Confusion again dominated the man's mind. "I don't understand."

"If I had been a good boy and just handed over the Prophecy last year, none of this would have happened." Harry sounded remorseful, but Lucius doubted his sincerity.

"What does that have to do with you being here? Come to absolve your guilt?"

Harry snorted. "No, I'm just here to tie off one last loose end. You see, I've been on a mission since killing the Dark Lord—"

"What?" Lucius asked, half in fear, half in surprise.

"News doesn't make it down here very often, does it? A few of the others already knew and were trying to crawl out the wall to get away from me. Now, as I was saying, since killing your Dark Lord I've been on a crusade. My mission in life has been to kill everyone who ever bore the Dark Mark."

Dread similar to the dementor's effect crawled through Lucius's system. Yet, his reaction to this dread was different. Before, there had been a loose tone of fear behind it; a resignation to the fate he had been handed. Now, the fear was consuming his senses, because he did not wish to accept this. Death was something he would fight against. "No!" he shouted, rising to his feet and using what strength was left in his emaciated form.

Harry just waved his wand and tossed the older man against the wall. Lucius fell into heap on the bed, memories of his wife crowding his consciousness.

"I'm going to give you a choice Lucius, the same one I gave all your predecessors." He pointed his wand to the wall and it vanished to reveal a clear sky filled with twinkling stars and a full moon lapping its light against a still ocean. With longing eyes, Lucius stared at the dazzling vista laid before him. Never had something looked so beautiful, not even when had first laid eyes on his son.

"You have two choices on how to die. You could, one, let the dementors feast on your soul." He pointed to the door, where bustling behind it were the creatures. "Or, two, you could leap to your death, while looking at something beautiful before you die."

Neither option much appealed to the man, but he was smart enough to realize he had little choice but to embrace death, even while wondering what had happened to the foolhardy teen that had defied his master so often. He did not give it much thought since death was waiting.

"You'd be amazed at how many of your fellows were unwilling to take their lives." He shook his head sadly. "A couple were so indecisive the dementors got them." He chuckled. "Which are you going to be? You have ten seconds to decide, starting," he paused dramatically. "Now! One…"

Harry began his countdown. The older man was about to prove why he had been one of Voldemort's top lieutenants. He chose his death how had he had lived his life, decisively. He calmly rose from his bed and walked towards the beautiful tableau outside, beckoning to him. He drew a breath and bolted forward, hoping to get some distance from the vast prison, thankful the youth and some modicum of humanity within him.

His run was short lived as he collided with a hard wall. With panicked hands he touched the scene and felt hard stone through the beauty. Harry's laugh cemented his conclusion. The breathless beauty and easy death had been nothing but an illusion. He whirled around, his eyes blazing, but the anger vanished as he saw the door slowly creak open, revealing a dozen hooded shades, desperate to feast.

"Good-bye, Lucius." Harry called with a smile.

The dementor's dread seized Lucius, weighing him down. As the pack of soul-eaters approached, he slowly wilted, their gazes sapping the strength from his legs. Like vultures they bore down on him, twisted, burnt hands reaching to bring his face to their lips. Lucius finally managed a wail of terror before he was kissed. Then, like a perverse orgy, he was passed around, kissed by each shade in turn, sharing the last points of light within his mind.

The feast done, they discarded the shell of a man. The body slumped against the wall, two blank eyes staring into space, while a drop of saliva fell from the husk's mouth.

Harry looked on with fascination. The ritual, having already been performed twenty four times, never ceased to amaze him. The dementors held a kind of magic that could rip a soul from the body. Could they perhaps pull Voldemort's soul from his own? Maybe, but he doubted they would differentiate his own from the Dark Lord's. Without a final word the dementors filed out, knowing that Harry was done. They were satisfied, for it had been years since they had feasted so well.

Harry made his way from the cell, oddly feeling let down. _I could have made them bleed. Shown them more than terror and fear. I could have bent them, broken them, raped them, mauled them, turned them to acid!_ Harry shook the thoughts away, feeling that brutalizing every member was unnecessary. Making them feel that kind of terror in their last moments was satisfying enough to sate his desire.

_No, it's not! We could have done so much more to them!_

Harry froze in his gait, the last sentence seeming to echo in the silence of his mind. Slowly, fear began to sprout as the ramifications of that statement took hold. He was not alone in his own mind.

The hall seemed to stretch and skew as he stood there. He slowly brought a hand to his forehead, shock not letting him cope with the knowledge. _Who are you?_

The only response was a damning silence.

He shook his head. Regardless of the revelation, he had to get out of here. He donned his cloak and mounted his broom. Soon he was flying through the jail at breakneck speeds, cornering as fast as he could. Quickly, he passed by dementors and, sensing the disarray of his thoughts, they followed slowly in his wake. Harry made a note to never slow down, lest they consume him.

The stairwell and freedom were approaching. He made a final turn and collided with a group of red-robed wizards. They all went sprawling across the floor, the sound of dropped wands skittering on stone. Harry found his feet in an instant and brought a hand to his face. His features warped and aged. The moment cost him as a spell knocked him from his feet. He recovered and responded in kind, sending the Auror to the afterlife.

The man's companions looked on in shock as the top half of their companion fell to the floor. There was then a mad scramble for wands as Harry searched for his broom and cloak. He grabbed the cloak and found the broom under a witch. He transfigured her into a pig and sent her squealing.

By now Auror's had recovered their wits and their wands and were blasting him with spells. Harry created a hasty shield from the stone beneath him and grabbed his cloak. He went to launch a few offensive spells when the walls began to ice over. The dementors were coming. He mounted his broom and took off, spells flashing past him as he went. _There's no need to run! You can hold them off and make them suffer! You can make up for your stupid decisions with the Death Eaters!_

_ Shut-up! They don't deserve it to suffer._

_ Yes, they do!_

Harry ignored the voice, but it held other plans.

Memories came unbound within him. Dark days of depression and mad laughter at his weakness.

_ Bellatrix's face came into view, blurred and indistinct. "I'm ready, Harry, are you?"_

_ It took him a moment to find his voice, then another to form the words. "Please," he whispered, "kill me."_

_ "A little louder." Bellatrix's voice seemed on the verge of giddy._

_ "Please, kill me." Harry's voice was louder and more insistent._

_ "Do what?" She giggled._

_ "Kill me!" He yelled, desperate for this hell to have an ending._

_ She stood, smiling proudly down at him. "No."_

His flying veered too high, and he clipped his head on the ceiling. He crashed into the floor, rolling a dozen times before coming to a stop.

_ Bellatrix brought out the collar, leaned down, and fastened it around his neck. She then kissed his forehead and petted his sweaty hair. "I want you to know, Harry, that I'm proud of you and that you've been a very good-boy." She vanished the remains of his pants before collecting Daphne and leaving._

Harry gained his feet, but the memories would not leave him be. He grabbed his head with his hands and stumbled into a wall. He felt the pain in his scalp as he gripped his hair.

_ Everything made perfect sense now. Bellatrix Lestrange had not been hurting him just to hurt him, she had been slowly training him to become her pet. It explained her loving tone of voice while she whipped him and her proud kisses._

"No!" Harry screamed. "I'm not her pet! I'm better than that!" He fell to his knees and banged his head on the ground, hoping to stop the memories. It did not.

_ He smiled in the silence and barked a few more times. He felt his cold skin and knew why he was not allowed clothing; pets did not where them. He wondered what tricks she would teach him? He could already do the things a dog did: rollover, speak, shake, sit, lay down. He practiced them to be make sure he could._

The shame of that humiliation burned, and he was unable to accept it. "That's not me! I would never do that!" The cold truth told him otherwise. At one point he had been glad to be Bellatrix's bitch.

Voices filled the passage. "They're still fending off the dementors. It's like they've all got crazy!"

"Where'd they say he was?"

"Down this way." Movement came in the form of Auror's mounted on brooms.

Harry glanced up with wild green eyes. The Auror's saw him and stopped in shock. Training took over and spells were flying from their wands. Harry gritted his teeth and rolled away, him responding in kind. He aimed for the ceiling and the ensuing blast freed up tons of stone that fell to the ground in a shower. His aim was imprecise and some fell on him. A quick shield barely saved his life.

In the dark place in found himself, buried under rubble, more memories assaulted his senses. Of a dark place where he lost his mind. Of a little hole that he shit in. Of the walls that became his friends and the ceiling that occupied his vision. Of being confined in a room growing smaller and smaller, until there was no room for breath. He shrieked in terror and gripped his wand, frantically trying to focus his mind. _I have to get out! I have to get out!_

The stone exploded as he summoned his will. With shaking limbs he managed to free himself, only to be greeted by limbs and brooms ends sticking out of the mess he had made. Screams were coming from behind him and the terror of massed dementors seized his senses. _I have to get out!_ Was the mantra playing through his mind.

He stumbled over the ruins and found his cloak, undamaged despite the rock. A whole broom was something he could not find.

He tried to collect himself as he ran forward, but the dark voice taunted him. _What's wrong, Pottey? You don't like dark places? I thought you liked being her toy?_ He laughed cruelly in his mind as he stumbled and fell. _I conquered all that! I'm sane!_

_No, Harry, we're not._

The final effects of the torture came to him, the dam keeping them at bay no longer up. Harry stopped in his tracks and felt like curling into a ball. Bellatrix's looming face tortured his mind, and he felt his sanity slowly slipping away as he felt back on his old coping habits. _I-I'm not going to be a dog! I'm not going back down that hole!_

_ What hole? Voldemort's gone. Come on, Harry, bark for me._

Harry growled and tried to summon rage against the image of Bellatrix dominating him, but his conditioned response was to whimper. "I'm not going to be a dog again…" His voice held little conviction as he recalled those horrible sessions.

_Bark for me, Harry! Bark for me!_

The sessions returned to him, long days and endless nights of screaming in agony. Of Bellatrix's taunts feeling like nails to the coffin of his sanity. Suddenly, he caved and barked, anything to stop the deluge.

_See how much easier it is if you listen to me. I've only been trying to help you the entire time. Trying to bring out the better parts of you, but you resisted. And of late, the pathetic other self you cling to has been getting too loud._

"Go away." Harry whimpered.

_Never._

The icy chill of dementors returned. Harry gave a panicked glance behind him. Voices from in front drew his attention as well. "We've lost touch with both teams."

"Careful, it's got to be the DE-Killer."

"He's right there!" Came a shrill shout of a witch.

_Make them suffer, Harry. Make them all bleed for me!_

"No." Harry took cover from the barrage spells and hid among the rubble. _Make them suffer!_ The voice had become Bellatrix's. Harry whimpered again as he tried to the fight the fear crippling him. _I have to fight, but not how he wants me to, I'm nobody's bitch…_ The statement fell flat. The rubble he was hiding in was blasted away and he was sent him flying. He groaned as a sharp pain brought a moment of freedom from the dark voice. It inspired him. He grabbed a rock and transfigured it into a knife. He hesitated and was assaulted by more sessions.

A pathetic sniffle escaped his lips, but he drove the knife into his leg. He cried aloud, but twisted it just to be sure. Real pain shot through his body, conquering the imagined horrors. Real pain he could adapt to. Real pain he could work with. Feeling himself once more, he rallied his senses. He quickly cast a patronus and sent it to ward off the coming dementors. For the Aurors advancing in front of him he unleashed, "_Vevicus!_"

The small mote of blackness left his wand and sought the ones impeding his escape. Harry took cover and shielded himself as the some of the rubble and the Aurors were sucked into the tiny point, then shot back out. Harry scrambled over the rubble and limped forward, ignoring the moans of pain. He kicked one Auror in the face who looked like they were going to rise. He pilfered a broom, noting it was a very poor model with a crack down its handle. He mounted and was zooming forward.

Finally, he entered the stairwell and began his ascent. _You didn't make them pay!_ The voice screamed in his head, but Harry hit his wound with his fist and tuned the voice out. As he ascended, two groups on foot assaulted him, but he made quick work of them. At the top a dozen Aurors were waiting for him. Three spells struck him while a fire whip grabbed his arm. He fell from his broom and tumbled to the ground, five Aurors together casting a web on him.

He slashed with his wand and turned the web against them. Another spell struck his back and he found himself immobilized on the ground. Panic set in and he gripped his wand and uttered, "_Vevicus." _He let the mote of blackness linger in front of his wand tip, hoping he was still conscious after the spell. It triggered and most of the room, the Aurors, and Harry were sucked into the void and sent reeling outward.

Darkness greeted Harry for a time before he opened his eyes. Chaos reigned all around him as people were strewn about like ragdolls. Some were muttering and rising to their feet. "_Sectumsempra._" Harry slashed with his wand and took the man's head. The others stirring tried to collect themselves, but Harry sent pain curses to occupy them.

He got to his feet, swayed for a moment, but walked forward.

Pieces of carpet and rolls of parchment littered the large room, which he recalled was the check-in for patrols. Harry limped to the far room and retrieved another broom. He heard voices coming from behind a door. He sealed it quickly before making his way outside. _Don't just leave them there unbloodied! Take their lives! Take their sanity!_

_No._

Bellatrix again assaulted his mind, her voice and past actions haunting him. He went to his knees as the clouds above opened and soaked him. "I'm not like that anymore." He whispered. "I'm not a dog anymore."

He grappled with his body as it tried to fall back on conditioned responses. To beg and bark and grovel. To give in.

_Bark for me!_ The voice cried once more, but Harry drew a breath and stood. He mounted the broom with shaking hands and took off, the echoes of the voice dying as he flew. "I'm not a dog," he muttered.

* * *

**a/n:: **It seems this story has been rated a 3/5 stars. Most appropriate in my opinion, anything higher would be lending it more credit than due. (There is just too many forced points within.) We have now reached the climax of the story, where Harry was confronted by that inner voice; what it is I'm pretty sure everyone can figure out at this point. I also hope everyone realizes why I made Harry a dog all those chapters back; it wasn't just for the WTF factor.

Next week will be the final chapter and the denouement. For all those that have been along for the ride thus far, thank-you. I'm glad some have enjoyed it.

Till next week.

-byl, out.


	12. Chapter 12: A Broken Mind and a Broken

Three months straight without a hitch.

**The Lies that Bind**

**Chapter 12: A Broken Mind and a Broken Dream**

It had been a wonderful dream for her, filled with promise and a husband who did has she bid. Reality intruded in the form of a loud noise coming from the entrance way. Daphne quickly donned a robe and retrieved her wand. With light foot falls from bare feet she greeted the racket with her wand lighting the way.

What she found left her speechless. There standing in her entrance way, pale as death, wearing sopping wet, shredded black ropes was a stranger. He had familiar black hair and gripped a broom whose bristles were in disarray. He approached her, eyes lidded with fatigue and pain.

"Stay back." She declared.

"Move." He spoke with a haggard voice. The voice was familiar and she found herself obeying. The man limped past her, leaving a trail of mud, blood, and water as he went. Daphne followed him into the living room, now with a suspicion to his identity. There the man eased himself into a chair, groaning as he did. For a second it looked like he had fallen asleep, but two vibrant green eyes speared her, confirming her thoughts. "Don't just stand there," he muttered weakly, "help me."

She walked forward but stopped. A smirk grew on her face. There was nowhere in the vows that said she had to save his life. She took a step back.

Harry saw her intentions. "Nice try, but I _order_ you to save my life."

She sighed, her elation fading as her duty to him again rested on her shoulders. She approached and vanished away his thick outer robes, leaving him wearing loose pants and shirt. "I see the raid didn't go as planned?"

"No, I lost my mind."

She gave him a startled look. "What?"

"My leg is where I've bled from the most; I had to stab myself." His voice was becoming softer.

She quickly searched the wet garments and her hands came away red. She cut the pants away and found a deep gash leaking fluid. A quick wave sealed it. A sigh of relief came from his lips. "Thank-you."

She rose and shot a spark into the fireplace. It roared to life and Daphne moved his chair closer to it. From there she went to the kitchen and grabbing a few vials. She returned to find him unconscious in the chair, his pulse weak. She slapped him back away, earning her a glare. "Stay awake. You were the one that ordered me to help you."

She made him drink a pain potion and a blood-replenishing potion. Working together they brought some life back into his skin. "I'm not very good at healing medicine. I only know the basics." Which meant how to mend cuts and slashes and apply potions. For the raw burns on his left arm she had no idea. The cuts on his scalp she easily healed, being careful not apply too much pressure; they were not that deep. After that she changed his features back to normal.

There were dozens of bruises on his body, with a rather large one on his back. Accompanying them was a lump on his head. The strangest was the curse that caused the veins on his right arm to look green. That troubled her. She briefly wondered why he had not healed himself, but from his condition he was too exhausted to have tried.

"I need to get you to St. Mungo's," she whispered.

"No." He rasped. "They'd ask too many questions."

"Then who?"

"No one." His green eyes met her blue ones. "Get a parchment and quill. I'll need you to write some things down." She left and returned with the items. From there he rattled off a list of potions she would need to get.

"Will you fall asleep while I'm gone?"

He shook his head. "The company I keep won't let me fall asleep." His eyes took on a lost quality that sent shills down her spine.

"I'll hurry back as soon as I can." She departed in a rush.

It took her the better part of an hour to find an apothecary and wake its owner; his rooms were located above the building in the Alley. It took a hundred galleons to get him to cooperate and twenty more for him to hurry. "I don't like hurrying for a pair of legs, but that gold will be incentive enough. You want Freda's Bane?" he asked at one point. "What you going to do with that, clean out a man's veins?"

"Just put it in there." She spoke testily.

Finally, the man had gathered the potions, three obscure enough to make him check his stores in the back. She gave him the gold and left, hoping he would not mention this to anyone. In case he did, she had changed her features.

Upon her return she found the chair empty and the fireplace cold. "H-harry!" She called to the house, but the response she received was silence. She went room to room, carrying the bag full of potions with her, hoping that she would find her fiancé. A part hoped for his death, but she feared more that he had lost his senses.

Then she heard noise from upstairs. Quickly, she hastened to the source. When she heard shouting coming from a lit bathroom at the end of the hall she grew wary. Her steps slowed as she approached the room.

She heard a voice, but no words; just long moments of hissing.

"No! I'm not listening to you anymore!"

Daphne crept closer and saw her fiancé's face in the mirror, anger emblazoned upon it. She wondered who he was talking to, when the face suddenly shifted in emotion. Cruel eyes stared out with a mocking grin. Then Harry began to hiss. For a time it seemed like he was talking to his reflection. At the end of the statement the smile grew.

The face shifted to righteous anger. "No! I know the things I did were my own doing. What I'm afraid is the reason I'm doing them is because of you. That because of you, I can't stop!"

A cruel smile, accompanied by more hissing.

"Of course, I enjoyed it! Those bastards deserved it, but no one else does. No one else deserves it!"

The hissing face returned, the tone reasonable.

Harry's face became conflicted. "Yes, pedophiles and rapists deserve it, but I'll not walk that path just to appease your bloodlust. It's not what I want."

Daphne watched the scene in fear. It seemed Harry was losing an argument with himself.

Again, the cruel smile showed. Again, the tone was reasonable, like a salesmen pitching to a reluctant buyer.

"No." Came a weak reply; Harry's fortitude was waning. "I don't want to keep killing, even if they deserve it. I don't want this." He hung his head for a moment.

The head rose, the cruel smile looking happy. The hissing seemed optimistic.

Harry's face contorted for a moment, until it suddenly calmed. The cruel face returned, but it was no longer grinning. A harsh hissing ensued.

Harry spoke calmly. "Yes, I have figured it out. You're not some darkness born in me from the torture. You're the piece of Voldemort's soul lodged in my head." Daphne's jaw dropped. Harry laughed, long and hard. "This isn't me wanting these things, it's you wanting me to turn into _him_!"

The cruel face came again, calm and composed. His hissing sounded more practical.

"I'll not meet you in the middle for this. I don't want to hurt anyone else, regardless if they deserve it." He screamed at his reflection. "Your days of dictating my actions are over!"

Composed and calm, he replied with a devious smile. Suddenly, Harry gripped his head with both hands and slammed it against the porcelain sink. He came up back up with his glasses askew. The hissing seemed condescending.

Harry returned, dazed. "You're right, you are getting stronger, but I'm still in control. Every new trick you try, I'll find a counter." Harry again gripped his head but stopped himself. "See?" He laughed. "It's my body!"

For a long moment both faces stared at each other, calm and composed shifting to manic every second. It was the most confusing staring match Daphne had ever witnessed.

Harry spoke once more. "You're the one that's been making me procrastinate on the Horcruxes, aren't you? Don't like to see you're other soul pieces getting destroyed? Don't fret, as soon as I'm better, I'll destroy all that are left. Voldemort will finally die!" _Other soul pieces?_ Daphne thought.

The cruel features returned, angry and livid. The hissing that ensued was vicious and heated.

"Not while I'm in charge you won't." Suddenly, Harry began to grapple with himself. His wand came out and a series of red and green sparks poured from its tip.

Daphne stood breathless, terrified, waiting to see which voice came out dominant. Mania returned to Harry's eyes, and he gave an exultant cry of victory. "I'm Harry Potter! I'm myself!" He shouted at his reflection.

Then pain clouded his features as he struggled with something in his mind. "I've conquered the memories you sneaky bastard. I'm in control again!" With a cry of anger, he slammed his fist into the mirror, fracturing the reflection into dozens of Harrys. He drew back his fist, leaving bloody marks on the glass. "I am in control." He insisted in a quiet voice.

Daphne took a cautious step forward. The dozens of green eyes looked to her; she shivered.

He left the bathroom and faced her. "You heard?" She nodded feebly. "I told you, I lost my mind, but I'm in control again." He walked past her. "C'mon, I feel weak." He continued down the hallway, expecting her to follow.

She hesitated a moment, casting one last glance to the broken mirror, before scurrying to keep pace.

* * *

Severus Snape awoke to noise coming from his den. He groaned for a moment, before he recalled the last time someone had visited him in the middle of the night. He quickly gained his feet and retrieved his wand from a blood-warded drawer. He had taken precautions with an insane Harry Potter running about. Especially, since, as of three nights gone, he was one of the last Death Eaters alive.

He crept down the hall, his motions made silent by a quick spell. The shattering of glass in his kitchen said someone was looking through his potions. As he drew near the light, he heard hissing. _Parseltongue._ That confirmed his suspicions.

He hesitated a moment before brazenly walking in to the kitchen, his wand's tip aglow. "I assume there's a reason why you're pilfering my supplies this late at night…" His voice trailed. There, standing in his kitchen with a potion inches from his lips, was Harry Potter trying kill himself; Snape recognized the potion easily.

He surged forward and knocked the flask from Harry's hands. It hit the ground and shattered. Snape belatedly noted the unbreakable spell on his flasks had faded_._ "If you'd drank that undiluted you'd have stopped your heart." His tone was harsh.

Harry glared at him. "That's kind of the point."

Snape took a step back, confusion riddling his face. "So you came to my house, just to drink a potion and kill yourself?" _He truly is mad._ "Couldn't be bothered to buy your own?"

Harry scowled and shouldered his way past the man. Snape held back a scathing retort. To his back he spoke. "I think an explanation is in order."

Harry whirled, his wand now out. "How about this for an explanation? _Avada Kadavra_!" The sick green light shot forward. Hones reflexes took hold of Snape and his wand moved. The rug in his kitchen flew up to block the spell, catching fire instantly. A beat later he responded with a silent _sectumsempra_. Harry smiled maniacally as the spell came for him, but his legs gave way at the last moment. He toppled to the floor and the spell went over him, cutting into the wall.

"Damn it!" Harry cursed, gripping his head with both hands.

The older man slowly lowered his wand. "You owe me an explanation, Potter. Why are you trying to kill yourself?"

Harry lay on the ground, a desperate laugh escaping his lips. "To get him to shut up."

Snape walked forward and eyed the downed teen. He saw how tired he appeared. "You're hearing voices?" _A result of the torture, no doubt._ "I don't think death is the logical way to stop them. I can administer a few potions that will silence them, but you would be better off seeking help from St. Mungo's."

Harry glared at his former teacher's sympathy. "I figured the way I left you last time, you'd be more than thrilled to do me in."

Snape calmly replied. "The thoughts of a juvenile on love are hardly upsetting. What I revealed to you was." He drew a breath. "Despite your actions and words, I still hold to my bond to keep you alive, if I can."

A somber mood fell over Harry. "Your last tribute to my mother."

Snape was surprised by the statement. He spoke in a low voice. "Yes."

Harry sat up, his eyes downcast. "I haven't slept in days, he keeps me awake. Sometimes I'm back in the cellar screaming and begging. Sometimes I'm bathed in blood, drinking it." His voice hardened. "What did Dumbledore tell you about Voldemort's horcruxes?" He looked up.

Snape frowned. "Nothing in depth. He did not like to have all of his secrets hanging from the Dark Lord's arm." The bitterness was apparent in his tone.

"I see. Voldemort made six of them." Snape paled. "And one more." Harry's eyes grew dim. "Me. According to Dumbledore, his soul was so unstable that when he tried to kill me, a piece of his soul broke off and attached itself to mine."

Snape's lips thinned. "I see." He returned to his kitchen and retrieved a glass of water. "So, this soul is the voice you are hearing in your head?"

Harry grinned and nodded. "Kind of funny. The one time a bloke's hearing voices and he's not crazy."

_I beg to differ._ Snape wisely kept that thought to himself, instead choosing to drink the water. "So killing yourself will destroy it? That is why you are suicidal?"

Harry was on his feet in an instant. "I'm not suicidal!" He drew a breath. "I'm just trying to get the fucker out of my head. Will you help me or not?"

"Right." He put the glass in the sink, using the time to ponder. Harry grew impatient and began to pace. "Did Dumbledore not give you instructions on how to get rid of it?"

Sarcasm lined Harry's response. "Oh yeah, he did. Either, a killing curse kills me and releases the soul, or it just releases the soul. Real clear, right?" The older man chose silence as a reply. "Well?"

"You said there were other horcruxes?"

"Yes. Three are destroyed, while I've still got three more to go. What's your point?"

Snape fell back into his teaching mannerisms. "My _point_, Potter, is that you are here asking me to kill you in an unknown gambit to rid you of the Dark Lord's soul piece, when you have yet to destroy the others. What happens if you die? Who will destroy the others?"

Harry drew a deep breath, keeping his anger in check. "I guess you will since you seem so interested. I mean, I would have done it myself, but the fucker in my mind had other thoughts!"

Snape narrowed his eyes. "I'm not accusing you of laziness, just lack of forethought. Something I've come to expect from you."

Harry's wand was pointed at him in a flash. "Keep it up Snivelous and I'll rethink why I kept you alive. Right now, I'm at the point where I don't care who kills me, so long as somebody does."

Snape stared at the wand point impassively. "I understand. Allow me to collect a parchment and quill and you can write down the horcrux locations. I'll take up the crusade from there, if this won't work."

"So, you'll kill me?"

"Is that not what I said? Was I too subtle?" Harry growled and tightened his grip on the wand. Snape quickly amended his words. "Yes, I'm agreeing to help you. One moment." He swept from the room and entered his study. After rifling around for a moment, he returned bearing parchment. In a manner of minutes Harry had dictated to him what he knew, and explained Gryffindor's sword as well. "It's under my bed at Grimmauld Place in a box. Just ignore Daphne and get it."

Snape kept a snarky reply about kids and hiding things under their beds to himself.

When the details were worked out, they were ready.

"Drop your wand, Harry. I'd prefer you did not retaliate."

Harry briskly walked forward and placed it in the man's hand. "I can summon it to me wandlessly, so keep a strong hold of it, just in case crazy-Harry gets desperate."

Snape was discomforted by the nickname, but let it pass. "As you say."

"If you want Snivellus, I can close my eyes and make it easier for you." Harry spoke with a smile.

"How will that help me?" Snape said with a drawl.

"Easy, my mum's eyes won't be looking at you, while my dad's face will be grinning." Snape's eyes hardened as an old hatred welled in his heart. Harry smiled and closed his eyes, mouthing 'Snivellus.' Snape cleared his head and aimed his wand. He adjusted his aim in case Harry's other voice tried something with his legs again.

The moment stretched for the two, one hesitating while the other impatient. "Do it, you bastard!" Harry cried.

"_Avada Kedavra."_ Snape intoned.

A bright green light flew from his wand and bore down upon Harry.

As before, the teen's legs gave way, and he toppled to the ground. The killing curse struck him as he fell.

For a long time, there was only the sound of Snape's shallow breathing. He slowly lowered his wand and approached the boy, afraid of the outcome. Had he freed the boy from this harsh world? Or had he cured him of his madness?

He nudged the body with his boot, noting the pale complexion. Had it been that pale when he first came here? He leaned in and felt for a pulse. There was none. Snape grew dizzy, the weight of his action bearing down on him. _I have killed your child, Lily, please, forgive me._

Snape lowered his head in quiet solace, only now realizing he had the Chosen-One's body lying dead in his house. It would have to be disposed of. Would he transfigure it? The task was an unpleasantly necessary one. He reached down once more to feel the pallid skin when Harry's eyes shot open, and he drew a sudden breath.

Snape recoiled back in shock, his wand raised defensively.

Harry lay there panting, working moisture back into his mouth.

"Potter?" Snape managed at last.

Harry turned to look at him. "Snape."

"What happened?"

"I just had a lovely conversation with Dumbledore. He says not to worry about him and that there is a place in the light waiting for you."

The older man's mouth dropped open. _Even after all the things I've done…_ Harry's abrupt laughter cut off any more hope-filled thoughts. The man scowled and briefly contemplated killing him for good. "Did it work?"

Harry brought a hand to his head and closed his eyes. "I'll kill him." He spoke to the air. He broke into more laughter. Snape took a wary step back. Harry addressed him. "Don't worry, it worked. I was trying to speak in parseltongue." Harry struggled to his feet, but swayed for a moment.

Snape did not bother giving him a hand. "You are sure it is gone?"

Harry frowned at him. "I just died and came back to life. So, yes, I think it worked." He sighed and dropped the sarcasm. "I was in a place with white smoke everywhere and I kept hearing a baby crying." He shuddered. "When I found it, all I saw was a ravaged fetus."

Snape sneered in disgust. _The Dark Lord brought that fate onto himself._ "You'll be able to handle the horcruxes from here I take it?"

Harry nodded. "It shouldn't be a problem, since I don't have a madman's voice distracting me." Harry walked forward and held out his open palm. Snape placed Harry's holly wand in it. The young man gave his former teacher a level gaze. "Thanks." He paused, seeking the right words. "If you need a favor, I'll do what I can."

Snape doubted there would come a time he would need the boy's help. "Understood. So I shouldn't expect any more threats on my life or midnight visits?"

Harry grinned at the man's dark humor. "No, not unless you become suicidal."

Without any more preamble, Harry turned and walked away, covering himself with his cloak as he left. Snape stood in the dim light of his den for a few minutes, contemplating either returning to his bed or going to his laboratory. In the end, he chose rest.

* * *

Daphne woke slowly, the rays of the sun coming through the window, shining upon her pale features. She glanced to her left and saw the bed across from her undisturbed. She sighed. Harry had once again been unable to sleep. That worried her, and her worrying about it worried her. Within a few minutes she was dressed in a loose lavender robe and left the room.

Her fiancé had practically enslaved her and bound her to his will, but as of yet it had not been that bad. She was given liberties and freedoms she did not expect, and he had yet to take any liberties with her. _I'm enslaved to the perfect gentlemen. _True, his campaign against the Death Eaters and the recent debacle at Azkaban had taken most of his time, but still, she had expected him to take her to bed at least once or twice. She was almost disappointed. She shook her head ruefully and made herself a light breakfast; eggs and toast with pumpkin juice. Harry had once told her muggles drank orange juice, but she found that hard to believe. _They're just so tart._

For a time she sat in the dining room, watching the barren walls. They had yet to decorate them, only choosing to remove the offensive paintings. Why Mrs. Weasley had chosen just to clean was beyond her.

She glanced to a corner of the table, where sat a pile of letters addressed to Harry. Most had arrived in the past few days, all filled with worrisome questions. She had already read through them, but her fiancé, wracked with inner demons, had yet to respond. She shook her head, recalling how he had scorned them at first, then cried for their concerns. She brought a hand to her head. "What I am going to do?" she muttered.

Harry was going insane and each day that passed proved he was getting closer and closer to losing it. The first night after he had shattered the mirror, he could not sleep. Even after taking a sleeping-potion the other one inside him refused to let him rest. That night he had paced the house, randomly shouting and destroying objects. The next night he had gone out, and Daphne wondered if he had killed anyone.

The blood on his robes confirmed her suspicions, but the _Daily Prophet_ reported no deaths. It was still filled with talk of the Massacre at Azkaban. Nine Aurors had died and twenty were in St. Mungo's, while the dementors had fled the island looking to feast on more souls. The Ministry was swamped with complaints and reports, trying to bring the dementor population under control. A pamphlet had arrived the other day, declaring she think happy thoughts in order to starve the creatures. _The Ministry is filled with idiots._

Harry had only laughed at the situation.

She stood and thumbed through the letters, seeing one from Hermione, Ron, Mrs. Weasley, and even Luna. Ron only asked about playing Quidditch together. Hermione wrote out an emotional one, begging for him to confide in them, saying there was a wall separating them that she wished he would take down. Daphne rolled her eyes at it. Mrs. Weasley asked after Daphne and offered to help with the wedding, and that Harry should come over and have some dinner. The one from Luna was soaked in some acrid smelling potion, which was supposed to help with the frazzles. _Odd one that one._

She replaced them with a sigh. "It must be nice to have so many care about you." She sounded wistful, realizing that the only person who cared for her like that was her sister. She was not too sad, considering she thought most of Harry's friends were sappy morons.

A sudden sound from upstairs drew her attention. Removing her wand, she crept up the stairs. It was probably Harry, but that was more the reason to be prepared. She paused at the head of the stairs, listening. She heard a soft whisk coming from the room she had recently cleaned out. Soon, she was peering inside.

Daphne found Harry sitting in a chair staring out the open window. Against the far wall was a shelf filled with little trinkets. Clustered around him were jars lying open and a kit with bristles laying next to it. There were a few soiled cloths lying by his booted feet. In his hands, which he was currently polishing with a clean rag, was a broom. To her untrained eyes it looked like nothing special, but she recognized the design. It was a firebolt.

She stepped into the room. "I thought yours was destroyed in the massacre."

He looked up from his task and eyed her casually. To her relief, there were no signs of madness lurking in his tired eyes. "It was. I went out and bought a used one."

She approached him and studied the broom. "Why?"

He shook his head. "I didn't want to get a brand new one. I wanted one that was broken-in; one I could work on." He hefted it for her to get a closer look. "I bought the worst they had. Somebody really didn't know how to take care of it."

She humored him and gave it a careful perusal. "I see."

He pointed to where the shaft met the bristles. "See the cracks there? It makes cornering hard, takes about fifteen kilometers per hour off the turn. I still need to buy a mender's kit." He gestured to the bristles on the ground. "I wanted to replace the bristles, the ones on here have too much drag, but I just replaced the worst of them."

Daphne blinked, thoroughly impressed by his knowledge. "There's a lot to broom riding, isn't there?"

He nodded sagely. "Yeah. Even the kind of polish you use effects how fast you go. Most people use lemon seed oil with a few enchantments on it. It works good for acceleration and straight shots, plus you only have to apply it once a week. But, I use orange-seed. Keeps the grease from your hands off the handle and is better for turns. You have to reapply it every few days, though. I never minded doing it." His voice grew quiet. "You know, I never had anyone teach me this. Everyone else had their father or uncle show them." He stood and placed the broom on a mount hanging from the wall.

She cleared her throat. "D-do you wish your dad had showed you?"

He tilted his head to the side, seeing his current life reflected in the motley broom. "Sometimes I do and sometimes I don't." His voice lost the sadness and shifted to cynical. "Of course, if I had my father and mother, then Voldemort might well be alive." He turned to her with a smirk. "And I wouldn't have you."

She glanced to the floor, then back up, afraid of what she would find in his eyes. The madness still had not returned. She blew out a sigh of relief. "You're feeling better?"

He nodded and yawned. "Yeah, I'm still really tired, though. I should be in bed."

She paused before speaking, still doubtful. "Is-is it really gone?"

He sighed. "Yes, it's gone." He spoke patiently. "I had Snape kill me." Her eyes widened and he laughed. "It's complicated, but let's just say there's only one person in my head. And that's me."

"I'm glad."

He laughed bitterly and resumed his seat in the chair. "Don't lie. You hoped it would kill me. I'm sure you would have helped it if you could, if it meant bringing Voldemort back."

She pursed her lips. "I…I never wanted this." Her voice grew in strength as she spoke. "But it's not as bad as I thought it would be. Besides, considering what happened to the other Death Eaters, I think I got lucky." She forced a smile, but her shivering ruined the affect.

He gave her wane grin. "Yeah, you got very lucky."

She looked away. "So, what were you doing with the broom? Giving my idea some thought?"

Harry sighed and looked to the light shining through the window. "Some. I really just needed something to do. I wanted to fix something while I thought. Put the pieces of my life and mind back together, find out what kind of person I am now." His eyes again sought the broom, where the sun reflected off its polished dark wood. The bristles still looked frayed but serviceable.

Daphne heard something in his tone, something akin to loss. Hesitantly, she stepped forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. He looked at her severely, but she weathered the stare. "So what kind of person are you now?"

His features softened. "I'm cynical and bitter. Glad to have so much knowledge, but sad to see what was me now gone. Angry that I can't care about people like I once did, but glad to see through the delusions my friends cling to. I'm satisfied, I destroyed Voldemort's followers, but unsatisfied by what I want in life. It's the price you pay when you don't earn your knowledge through experience." He grew quiet. "I also think that's why the soul manifested itself."

"I'm sorry?" Daphne was confused by the last.

Harry then realized who he was talking to and frowned. _She'd not understand in the least_, _yet…_ "Dumbledore once told me that love was my greatest weapon. Something Voldemort did not have. I think that's why the soul could never gain any purchase in my mind. But, what Bellatrix did to me," he began to shake. Daphne looked shocked, but her hand tightened on his shoulder. He found his voice again. "It made me lose that love. It's hard to see the world with innocent eyes when you're forced to beg for death."

Daphne made note of his reaction, realizing the trauma of it still afflicted him.

Silence fell like a curtain between them, and each let their thoughts dwell where they may. Daphne felt this was a turning point for them. Where he could put the past behind him, Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and she too could move on, leaving her crushed dreams behind. Yet, there was one immutable fact in this life that she could never escape; she was solely at the mercy of Harry Potter's whims.

Gazing at the man who had sought to restore a derelict broom, she thought her fate had not turned out so bad. "What now?" she asked.

"What now?" He eased back into the chair and spoke in a tired voice. "Now, I learn to live."

The End.

* * *

**a/n:** Well this is the end of the line. I can now proudly proclaim to have done something not many can they have done even once: I have completed two works of fanfiction!(Woo!) hehe. Pride aside, I'm happy to have shared this and glad some have enjoyed it. To those interested in the writing process behind the work, there's some explanations on my profile, which may give a greater depth to the story. Your mileage may very on that one, considering the author's works are usually more interesting than their pontificating notes.

I will ask a favor for those reading this. Will you drop a review telling me your final thoughts/concerns you had of the story as a whole? The input would help immensely and would be appreciated. Thanks again for all those that read, and thanks to the criticisms I've received.

-byl, out.


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